


Of broken hearts, break-ups and bridging gaps

by Publisher021



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Morgan Stark - Freeform, Bottom Steve Rogers, Break Up, Childbirth, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Break Up, Pregnant Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Top Tony Stark, labor, men can get pregnant in this universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Publisher021/pseuds/Publisher021
Summary: Steve and Tony discover new things about themselves, go through a breakup and dive headfirst into the task of parenting.Or, in which there is a breakup, some miscommunication between Steve and Tony (what's new?), and Steve discovering some unexpected news that drives both Tony and Steve to the decision that the best way forward is to forget the past; for the sake of their child, they would be willing to live and parent together.Whoever said living with your ex would be an easy feat?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 103
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capsicle2013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capsicle2013/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Another Try](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259018) by [Capsicle2013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capsicle2013/pseuds/Capsicle2013). 



> OKAY! This has been sitting in my Google Docs folder since I first read chapter 1 of Capsicle2013's fic and I'm so excited to post it. (And more than a little terrified, if I'm being honest). This is a remix of Capsicle's phenomenal and incomparable Another Try. This fic swaps a few things around and a few things have changed, as you can probably guess by the tags.
> 
> You don't have to have read Another Try to understand this, although I suggest you do read it because it is absolutely brilliantly written. A few ideas have been kept the same, seeing as this is a remix and not only just a fic that was inspired by, which means that everything cool and awesome comes from Capsicle's angst-filled mind. Thank you, for helping me when I got stuck and when I doubted anything related to this fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading this almost as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If it was anyone else, Tony would laugh at them. Probably in their faces, too, if he was being honest. Which is something that Pepper is always trying to get him to practice. The being honest part, that is, not the part where he laughs in people's faces.

But Steve is a whole other story.

Steve is the unreliable factor in the story, the wrench in the works, and whatever else you want to call Steve. 

He threw Tony for a loop, got him thinking that maybe he could be trusted to be in a relationship.

Nobody wants to call Captain America a liar. Neither do they want to disbelieve anything he says, either. Paragon of hope and virtue and everything.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

That was Captain America, not Steve Rogers. And there was a great big difference between the two. Steve was more real, more feeling. He smiled more and was less tense. Steve Rogers allowed himself to  _ live.  _ Captain America lived and breathed for his  _ work.  _

Which is why when 'The Incident' - as Tony was choosing to refer to the situation from last month - occurred he found himself less surprised and more disappointed.

Not that he shouldn't have expected it, of course. 

There were too many differences between them for them to work out properly. They argued a lot, mostly over things that didn't even garner any special attention. Bystanders (and by bystanders, Tony mostly thought of whichever unfortunate team member managed to walk into any given room in the tower at the wrong time) would point out that their relationship could hardly be called that.

Nobody in a relationship should argue as much as they did.

But as it was, none of the bystanders (and here the term is being used correctly because now it can be referred to the ordinary people outside as well who have been witnesses to him and Steve arguing) ever thought to point it out, and neither did the team. Instead, they simply rolled their eyes and sighed. Natasha just muttered curses at them in Russian before stalking away whenever she caught them arguing.

They argued more often than not, and the days where there was a lull in heated conversations and flying accusations, they were simply too exhausted to do anything to mend the destruction of their last ferocious encounter.

But that wasn't to say that they despised each other, or that their relationship was comprised of only arguments and hot-headed statements; no, there were the  _ good days,  _ too.

They had meaningful conversations (ones that Sam would be proud of - there were feelings involved, ugh) and they laid around in bed together. Sometimes Steve would forgo taking his morning run and would stay instead to keep Tony company in bed. Which, in Tony's mind, was the best idea ever. They went out on dates and held hands. They had make-out sessions that resulted in bruises on Steve's pale skin (if Tony was lucky they'd last for half an hour and then start to fade due to the serum) and they had great sex. God, the sex was  _ awesome. _

Not that Tony only liked Steve for the sex, though. He liked every bit of Steve.

And maybe, if Tony had been attending his therapy sessions regularly, he'd realize that really, using the word 'like' was probably part of the problem when it came to him and Steve and 'The Incident'. 

But as it was, Tony hadn't been going regularly, and he never used any other word but 'like' when referring to Steve, which is what set the events into motion.

Anyway, going back to the bit about what else Tony liked about Steve: Steve was amazing. He was kind, he was loyal, he was honest. He was so giving, and so goddamned  _ earnest,  _ too, that Tony often had a hard time believing in anything else but what Steve had to say.

Steve had a great body, and despite his size, he was the gentlest person that Tony had ever met. Even his voice was gentle, all soft and kind (when he wasn't yelling orders into the comms).

But Steve had his faults, too. He was stubborn, and sometimes he forgot to put himself first, which often resulted in him getting hurt (either emotionally when they fought, or physically when they were on missions and he refused to go to medical until everyone else had been seen to first). His way of always wearing his heart on his sleeve, his giving nature, and earnestness was sometimes too much.

And it was that same earnestness that made Tony forget.

Tony thought that they were going to be okay, but in reality they had been setting themselves up to fail, and honestly, he's surprised that the rest of the team hadn't tried to tell them that before they decided to venture into a relationship.

So when Steve told him, after their millionth argument, that they'd be okay and that they'll keep on coming back to each other because it's what they do and they'll always just keep on gravitating towards each other (it probably wasn't even those exact words but he can't remember anymore) he believed Steve and gave in with an exhausted sigh, choosing to ignore the entire afternoon in which they'd spent arguing and focus on the good: the calming effect that Steve's heartbeat had on him and that Steve still loved him enough to hold him and hadn't yet tired of him.

Two weeks later, they're lying in bed after sleeping together; sweaty and still trying to catch their breath. He's ready to drop into the type of sleep that is so deep that absolutely no sounds can filter through his consciousness, and Steve is probably pretty wrung out, too, judging from his silence and the way he's tracing a light finger across his bicep, creating patterns that couldn't be deciphered. 

It's that particular moment that he realizes that maybe, just  _ maybe  _ they're better off apart.

And the thought alone was alarming; why now? Couldn't it be done later? They had just had a really good time together and maybe he was overthinking things, but the fact that his brain seemed to be wholly in favor of it, and his heart wasn't screaming at him not to let something as great as Steve go (part of his heart  _ was  _ begging him not to do it, but it was the part that was faulty, the part that wished for things that were impossible) that he decided to just end things between them.

Apparently, Steve must've been sitting on the same thought for a while because when he turned to face Steve, the blond was already turned to face him with a sad smile on his face. It was almost as if they knew that they were saying goodbye, then, but neither of them knew how to say it and decided to say it physically. (This resulted in them having sex, and really, whoever disagreed with their ways of ending a relationship could shove it. Maybe it wasn't ideal, but they had both consented and had a great time, and in the end, it was a good way to end things between them).

When the words finally came out, they were choked and hoarse, but steady and clear. 

"Steve, I'm really sorry -"

"Tony, it's okay, I think it's for the best."

Their words tumbled over one another, but the intentions were clear as day. 

Their relationship was over.

Steve's eyes were bright and shiny and he was loathe to admit that he had a hard time keeping his own emotions from spilling over as well, trying to blink his own sadness away.

He was overly aware of the sheets pooled around their waists and the stickiness that covered them. He was quick to get out of bed and head to the en suite and grab them both a wet towel to clean themselves up.

And if he refused to let Steve clean himself, wanting to clean Steve himself - he noticed the wince Steve had on his face and couldn't stop the surge of guilt that flowed through him with the thought that he'd been too rough, but then he realized that Steve was probably just sensitive - he told himself that he was simply just fulfilling his duties when it came to basic aftercare.

And although they were ending their relationship, he wasn't going to forgo his duties. He wasn't bitter towards Steve, rather the blond still had a fond place in his heart.

In a way, it was one last act of kindness.

In the end, after Steve had gotten dressed back into his jeans and slipped into his sweater, Tony had walked him to the door, hand hovering as if on its own accord; usually he always rested his hand on Steve's lower back, loving the message it painted to anyone watching them.

Now, he's not so sure that his touch would be welcome.

His internal struggles are for naught, however, when Steve turns around at the door and gives him a kiss on the cheek, eyes gazing intently into his own.

Steve still looks sad, but never let it be said that Steve Rogers is nothing but brave and determined.

Steve gives him one last goodbye kiss and a smile.

He finds it in himself to reciprocate the kiss and give Steve a quick hug.

"We'll be okay, right? We can still be - we can be friends? Still, I mean. This doesn't have to… affect our friendship, right?" he asks.

Steve gives him an amused smile and shakes his head, a tiny laugh bubbling out.

"No, Tony. It won't - We can still be friends. I'd like that." 

Tony doesn't point out that Steve never answered his question on whether they'll be okay or not, but by then his brain has caught on to the fact that Steve said that they can still be friends and he's already forgotten about it.

See, the thing about Steve is that he's so earnest that you have no choice but to believe in him and anything that he says.

So yes, if it was anyone else and they'd told him that they could make things work in a relationship, he'd definitely laugh in their face.

But he didn't because it was Steve. Instead, he allowed himself to hope, and that was much, much worse.

In the end, after having and living your own fears, you forget that Steve's also insecure, and that more often than not he's also got his own fears and doubts. One's that he keeps close to his chest and won't show because he thinks it will push others away. That it would make others disappointed in him and think less of him.

But by then, Tony's so relieved and disappointed and so surprised at his own lack of surprise at the end of their relationship that he's too exhausted to even question Steve's lack of argument at them ending their relationship that he doesn't think about it.

After all, he and Steve are still friends and they'll still get to talk and hang out, just not do any of the stuff they did while dating, such as holding hands and necking like a bunch of horny teenagers.

He's happy with the outcome, and his brain has quieted all of its thoughts.

His therapist, if he bothered to go, probably wouldn't be, but what's in the past is in the past and can't be changed.

The elevator slides shut and for a moment he's faced with a terrible sense of wrongness and sadness, but it dissipates when Steve looks him in the eye and smiles.

Granted, it's not the sunshine smile that he's come to associate with Steve and happiness, but it's a smile nonetheless.

He takes it for what it is: goodbye.

After all, what could make Steve ever regret breaking up with him?

He wasn't exactly the easiest person. He has no doubts that being in a relationship with him would be both frustrating and exhausting.

This was better for both of them.

He was sure of it.

Absolutely, one hundred percent sure.

So why was he suddenly regretting ending things with Steve?

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a mission and he and Natasha have some bonding time

It’s the third mission with the rest of the team in the last couple of months. If he’s counting - which he is; he hasn’t had much to keep his mind from roaming to more traitorous thoughts and at the moment he’ll take anything to keep his thoughts from wandering - then this is his fifth mission ever since he and Tony broke up. 

He’s happy when he’s got something to do, and this mission is a blessing in disguise, really. He didn’t even think twice before accepting the mission briefing from Tony. 

It wasn't even all that difficult to look Tony in the eye and grab the dossier from him. So long as he's got something to keep him busy then he's happy.

That didn't mean, however, that he didn't see the look that Tony gave him when he thought he couldn't see.

And although he can understand Tony's confusion at his eagerness to accept the mission, it's completely misplaced. He's not eager to go on the mission, not _really._

He's eager to get out of the tower.

And while he can understand why Sam and Bucky and the rest of the team get so concerned whenever he leaves for a mission - they think that he's going to burn himself out and overdo it - he's _not._ He just needs some space.

He's sure that if he had to spend time in the tower doing absolutely nothing while he waited for the next self-made villain until they decided that they wanted to attack the city, then he'll go completely crazy. 

He already feels antsy whenever he's in the tower, almost as if walking around the various halls and floors would suddenly make Tony appear in front of him. It's an invalid fear, of course, ever since he and Tony broke up it was like whatever agreed-upon idea made to remain friends was put on the back-burner while they sorted through whatever they needed to go through. 

He hated that this is what they've become; Tony hiding in his workshop and flying halfway around the world to be at meetings in countries that didn't even allow him to adjust to the different time zones before he had to leave for the next country, while he tired himself out going on missions that lasted three days minimum.

Nevertheless, he stays silent and doesn't bother answering Tony's look of confusion, taking the mission brief from his hands instead.

Sam and Natasha share a look that he won't try to decipher; if it's anything like the conversations they tried to bring up on several different occasions, then he doesn't want to know. He already knows what they're going to say, and he doesn't want to hear it.

"Thanks, Cap. I won't be able to help much since I'll be at SI when you guys are on the mission, but FRIDAY will be able to should you need it. Just ask her for anything. I'll be back in time for a debriefing," Tony says. 

He places a hand on Natasha's shoulder and gives Steve a brief smile.

He's surprised to note that it was one of the few times that Tony had looked at him, _properly_ looked at him since they broke up.

Natasha scowls and shrugs his hand off.

"We're more than capable of stealing a couple of weapons, Tony. We've done harder things than that. If you were so worried about us not being able to go on the mission then why don't you send Barnes?" she asks.

Tony rolls his eyes and takes a step back.

He's getting ready to leave and although Steve tells himself that he shouldn't focus so much on Tony, that he shouldn't be disappointed that Tony's leaving to go back to his workshop, he is.

He bites his lip and pointedly looks at the table in front of him. This way he won't be so distracted by Tony that he forgets his own mission: to get over Tony.

He's more than halfway there. Something that he's happy about. Now, whenever he looks at Tony it doesn't hurt as much and he's not fighting back what feels like a permanent lump in his throat. Instead, it's a dull ache that forms in his chest. 

Some days he's overcome with a bone-deep tiredness that he knows is from his own sadness and he allows himself to feel it, because he knows that it will disappear eventually. As suddenly as it had crept up on him it's quick to go away and he's able to go on with his day once more.

Other days he's sitting alone, drawing or reading and he'll suddenly be hit with the fact that he and Tony aren't together and he can't do anything but let the memories wash over his mind once more like a heavy blanket. Those days are far and few between, but when he does have them it's like there's a dark cloud above his head and nothing that usually makes him happy can help him shake the loneliness and sadness that he feels. 

It's because he's looking at the table while deep in thought that he doesn't hear the rest of the conversation and when he finally realizes that the briefing is over, both Sam and Natasha are having their own conversation, talking about the cookies that Sam's mom had baked so that he'd have something to contribute to the team dinner they had the other night.

By then he's noticed that Tony is long gone and they're the only ones in the boardroom. 

It's not that difficult to join the conversation and soon he finds himself laughing both at Sam's dry humor and Natasha's quick wit. He notices that they're purposefully poking fun at one another in an attempt to make him laugh and speak more, which he does, and chooses not to say anything at their lack of subtlety.

He appreciates it, really.

And when he goes quiet at a lull in conversation, they're quick to say something that grabs his attention.

All too soon, Sam stands with a look of regret on his face and gives them a smile that could easily pass as a grimace.

At the questioning looks, he explains.

"My sister is in town for the week and we're having dinner together with her family. As much as I love spending time at the tower, it's my sister. She's already messaged me ten times. I'll be back later tonight, probably crash in one of the guest rooms so I'll be here early for the mission. It's simpler than traveling in the early hours of the morning, you know?" Sam explains as he pulls on his jacket and gathers his things.

It really is easier to just crash in one of the many guest rooms in the tower. 

What would be infinitely _easier,_ however, is if Sam just accepted his offer at staying in the tower. That way he wouldn't have to travel back and forth between his house and the tower every week. Also, he would get the satisfaction of being able to say that he finally managed to get Sam to stay at the tower. But, seeing as this was almost a year-long argument with no signs of Sam's resolve weakening in sight, it just served as making everyone vaguely irritated that they couldn't get Sam to accept the invitation to stay in the apartment that was made for him.

When Sam leaves, Natasha wastes no time in beating about the bush and goes in straight for the kill.

She turns to look at him, and, if he looked long and hard enough, he's able to see the worry on her face, but, since Natasha is extremely good at what she does and he doesn't want to spend forever trying to understand what it is exactly that she's thinking (the effort is wasted, as soon as he thinks he knows what she's thinking she proves him wrong), he can only make out the slight furrow in her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

It's concern. 

An emotion that he got really tired of seeing on his friend's faces when they thought he wasn't looking. Although, in the beginning, right after he and Tony broke up they hadn't even bothered to disguise their worry and concern. Now they were slightly more subtle about it, but he was getting better and better at identifying it for what it was; them looking out for a friend.

"You know, Steve, you don't have to go out on this mission. I mean, sure, Tony asked you, but I'm pretty sure you're not needed. I know for a fact that Bucky would be happy to go with us on the mission."

The way she states it so casually makes something in the back of his mind go off. So the others _had_ been talking behind his back.

Again.

He shrugs. He doesn't want to let on just how annoyed he was at her. Not that she deserved it, of course, but it didn't mean that he didn't have a reason for being annoyed. His friends were talking behind his back. And while it was probably in good faith and in concern for his general well-being, the fact remained that they had still gone behind his back.

"Really, Nat? Way to make a guy feel wanted," he allows his tone to come off as teasing, instead of the annoyed tone he wants to convey, and he watches as it reaches its desired effect.

Natasha laughs, rolling her eyes, and her entire body language shifts from tense and worried to slightly more relaxed.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't noticed all the looks you get whenever we step out together. Women and teenage girls in the street stop and stare at you whenever you walk past. And I've seen a few men, too! You know you're wanted, right?" she says with a teasing tone of her own, eyes twinkling in the artificial light of the boardroom.

He feels a blush working its way across his face and although he wants to laugh and shrug it off, he knows it's true. It makes him uncomfortable that people who would have never ever looked at him that way before will suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk to look at him now. And although he was in a relationship with Tony - who was completely and utterly shameless - he still found that he didn't believe that people could honestly like someone like him, and the thought made him uneasy and uncomfortable.

Natasha laughs at him and stands, offering a hand and he takes it.

"Come on, let's get some dinner and watch a movie. I'm starving," she looks over her shoulder at him, "And I miss my bonding buddy. We haven't done anything fun together in a while."

He smiles, and he's surprised to note that it's a genuine one this time, not one he's had to force.

"Sure, Tasha," he says and she grins, dragging him from the boardroom and to the elevator, which he's ninety percent sure is going to take them to the communal floor's kitchen.

The nickname, as he learns, doesn't even affect her. Usually, Clint is the only one to call her that and no one else deigns to try, lest she decides to strangle them or murder them in their sleep.

It's nice to know that she likes him enough to let him call her that, and the knowledge that she thinks of him as someone she can call a friend (not that she couldn't before, but now she trusts him a bit better) warms someplace deep in his chest.

They make their way to the kitchen and Natasha starts pulling out various items.

It's strange seeing her so focused when it comes to something other than a mission, and he settles in one of the barstools to watch her as she gathers various utensils and plates and items from the fridge.

When she's done and all the items are laid out on the marble countertop, she hands him a plate and gestures to the bagels that she's managed to produce from somewhere.

He wasn't even aware that they had bagels in the tower.

He also wasn't aware of the fact that Natasha was a fan of breakfast foods for dinner. Not that he was willing to bring it up, of course, he valued his life.

He can only watch as Natasha cuts her bagel in half and spreads cream cheese on one side, and strawberry jam on the other.

The sight is enough to make his stomach turn and he has to breathe in and out several times so that he doesn't empty his already empty stomach.

For the sake of the nausea that has suddenly reared its head and his churning stomach, he hopes that she doesn't eat the two together. 

She simply raises an eyebrow at him in a challenge.

"You okay?"

He nods, finding that he is okay, for now at least. So long as he didn't have to smell - or see - what Natasha was eating then he'd be fine. 

She nods and takes a bite of the half of the bagel with the strawberry jam on it and makes her way to the lounge.

"Coming?" she calls.

He follows and they settle themselves on the sofas with their assembled dinners in their laps.

"I was thinking the Princess Bride," she says and he hums in affirmation. It wasn't so much of her asking as her stating something, anyway.

The rest of the evening passes with them spending time together and for the moment, all thoughts of the mission that awaited them tomorrow - and Tony - is the farthest thing from his mind.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve grows frustrated and throws someone overboard, and continues to ignore the obvious signs that maybe, just maybe, everything isn't okay.

The day of the mission dawns bright and early. Despite the early start and the early night he had last night - Natasha noticed that he was falling asleep during the movie and instead of being upset at him not paying attention, she turned the movie off and told him to get some sleep - the mission starts off differently. 

He goes through the motions of getting ready and instead of feeling refreshed and ready for the mission he feels unprepared and unfocused.

He gets dressed and he notices that his suit isn't sitting right; it's tighter somehow and it's a slight struggle to strap on his utility belt. 

Steve frowns at his reflection in the mirror and turns, trailing a hand down the front of his suit, his frown deepening at the small bump that he feels beneath his fingers. The observation was strange, he never had a problem with his weight; he was always running or in the gym, and despite the many calories he had to intake, his weight was never a problem and never rose above or below the weight he currently was. If he did gain weight, then the serum would take care of it, so the small bump was definitely a new sight. His middle was slightly distended, now that he was looking. 

He straightens up and looks away from the mirror, shaking off any thoughts about the serum and the bump that he found.

He can't afford any distractions. Not when he was leaving on a mission. 

Despite pushing the new discovery from his mind, a tiny part in the back of his mind can't help but probe at the recently-found observation. It's weird, but it certainly wasn't the strangest thing his body has ever gone through. He thinks of the serum and all the changes his body went through, but his thoughts drift to the other things he'd found to be odd; the past few months he found that he tired easily, and sometimes, he even found himself sick to his stomach. Granted, those were the nights that Clint cooked for the team, but he couldn't find any excuse for the times when he got sick when he decided to hole himself in his apartment on the nights he couldn't stand to face the rest of the team. He also experienced brief bouts of nausea. He found the symptoms worrisome, but he'd brushed it aside and reasoned that it was due to the stress of the breakup and how hard he had been pushing himself on missions. Not that he was willing to admit that to his friends, of course.

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water, sipping from it as he checks through the things in his utility belt. When he's done, he places the glass in the sink and picks his shield off of the kitchen counter, securing it on his back.

He steps out of his apartment and meets the rest of the team outside where they're loading onto the jet. Natasha, from what he can see, is already on board. Sam is the only one still standing around in the hangar bay, leaning against one of the cargo racks along the side of the wall. He's relaxed and seems to be scrolling on his phone as he waits for the jet to be readied.

The sight reminds him of simpler times, back when the entire team went on missions; Clint would be in Sam's place, although he usually tended to nap standing up while he waited for everything to be sorted out. Natasha and Bruce would already be on the jet, sometimes going over the mission briefing and other times just conversing softly with one another. Steve and Tony would be the ones at the front of the jet. They'd talk and sometimes they'd make plans for dates later on in the day or week depending on how long the missions were and their respective schedules. Then Sam and Bucky joined and the team made space for them. Things hadn't changed much, just that Sam and Bucky were more inclined to bicker with one another if they sat next to each other on the jet. 

This time, Tony isn't with him. It's just him, Natasha and Sam. Not that he expected Tony to be with him, of course. Tony was with Pepper in California, no doubt securing some new business deal or some other or promoting new designs for the company.

He shakes any thought from Tony from his head and puts a smile on his face.

He's less than two feet away from Sam when a sharp pain in his abdomen has him stopping mid-step, a gloved hand pressing gently against the spot when his stomach tightens. The feeling is uncomfortable and he grimaces slightly, hand still over the area on his stomach.

The action is enough to grab Sam's attention and his head shoots up, a smile on his face when he sees Steve. However, the smile wavers when he notices the way Steve's standing and he gives him a brief look of concern.

He moves his hand away from his midsection, hating that he worried Sam over something small.

"You okay there, Cap?" he asks, brows furrowing. "You don't look too hot, man." 

He shakes his head. "I'm fine, Sam. Is the jet ready?" 

He doesn't want to say anything to worry Sam or any of the others, so he doesn't say anything about the odd sensation in his stomach, or how it tightened uncomfortably almost to the point of pain. 

The feeling is already gone and he shakes it off, focusing on the mission. He's already forgotten about it.

Sam nods slowly, looking almost as if he wants to argue but then he sighs in resignation.

"Yeah, the jet's already ready. Just waiting on you, Cap."

He nods at Sam and they walk towards the jet, and they step onto the ramp.

"Good, then let's go," he says.

The ramp closes behind him and Sam and they make their way to the middle of the jet and strap themselves into their seats.

It's as he's buckling his belt that he feels another cramp hit and he's thankful that this time nobody else notices. 

He's able to brush it off again just like before and he settles in for the flight.

He closes his eyes and lets the hum of the jet lull him into a relaxed state.

The mission was going to be fine.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him

He was fine.

As soon as this mission was over he was going to take it easy, maybe lay off on going out on other missions for a bit, take his friends' advice.

*********

The entire point of the mission was to slip onto the ship and back off again without anyone noticing that they'd been there in the first place, or that the crates containing the Stark weapons that the black market pirates were planning on selling were no longer on board. They'd planned for the worst-case scenario as well; in case of any hostages being on board, they were to rescue the hostages and radio SHIELD in to deal with it, but the weapons were to be returned to Tony to be disposed of. 

The mission, as planned, goes off without a hitch and everything is running smoothly. At least, it was at first.

Natasha leaves the jet on autopilot and the reflective panels allow them to stay in the air above the ship without being detected.

They slip onto the ship with ease and Natasha slips away and into the shadows. Sam is not far behind her and he slips his goggles on, tapping something on his gauntlet, and Redwing launches into the air.

That's as far as he's aware of them; the comms are silent in his ear as he stalks the lower deck, eyes peeled for any guards and watchmen that might be walking around.

It seems like minutes after he's just begun to think about how simple this mission was that his luck runs out and life tries to prove him wrong.

He knows that it was bad to count your chickens before they're hatched and all, but for once, he really just wanted to believe that the mission would be easy. He'd believed that everything would go off as planned and that tonight as soon as the mission was over he'd be able to go back home to his apartment and relax.

And that is when he knew that he'd essentially jinxed himself.

As quickly and easily as they'd slipped above board, that was where it all ended. Things suddenly became very difficult. At least, for Steve.

He was struggling to concentrate on the mission itself, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, the discomfort that he'd felt earlier was now rearing its head again, this time washing over him in waves and bringing dull pains along with it.

He's silent as he moves along the deck, eyes roaming the dark surroundings of the ship and he pushes the feeling of discomfort from his mind, hoping it will make him focus better on the mission and take his mind off of it, but it's easier said than done; the feeling of discomfort never truly fades, instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a couple of counts, then releases it. He does it a few more times and it helps center him, the mission now the only important thing on his mind.

He's debating on moving further down the deck or to take the stairwell that he sees leading to the top deck when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

Bingo.

From what he saw, there are men patrolling the upper deck. Which means that either they're simply on the lookout for any intruders, or they're guarding something important.

He slips into the shadows and slowly makes his way to the stairwell, testing each step beneath his weight before he moves any further. 

He skips the top steps and pulls the shield from his back, releasing it from his grip and letting it sail through the air and take out the two men he saw patrolling.

They go down easily and don't get back up, and he's able to move past them.

He loses count of how many men he's taken down, sneaking up on them and taking them down silently so they don't even have a chance to reach down to the radios to call in for help. The upper deck is cleared and he alerts Natasha over comms, telling her that he's about to search for any weapons. She replies straight away and in the background, he can hear the dull this of something being hit. He tunes the sound out and lets Natasha carry on with whatever she was doing.

He's heading towards the only door that he can see, knowing that behind it must be the thing that they're looking for, the place where the weapons are being stored, but he's forced to stop mid-stride by a particularly harsh cramp. It startles him and is painful enough that he emits a gasp, breath catching in his throat. He moves his hand toward the area where the pain seemed to be emanating from and gingerly presses his hand against the spot, frowning. The bump that he'd discovered what seems like hours before is now tighter and feels firmer to the touch.

"Damn it," he mutters, biting his lip. He shuts his eyes against the onslaught of pain that washes over him again, but they shoot open when he hears the crackle signaling someone talking over the comms.

He inhales shakily, steadying his breathing, and tries to focus on the person who's talking despite the pain he was feeling.

"Cap, you okay there?" Sam asks. He nods, then realizes what he's done and replies.

"Fine. I'm fine, Sam," he says and finds that as quickly as the pain had come, it had gone again. 

"Okay. So while I couldn't find any weapons, I did find something else," Sam says, and judging by the grave tone of his voice, it wasn't anything that Steve was going to like.

"Hostages?" he asks, even though he knows that it's the case.

"Yeah. Most of them are fine, a few have minor injuries, mainly from being tied up for so long. I'll call SHIELD in to deal with them. How are you doing? Find any of Stark's weapons yet? Should be real easy to find, what with his obsession with putting his name on things."

Steve sighs. "Sam," he warns and he can practically see Sam deflate. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Just - try to find those weapons," Sam says.

_ "What did you think I was doing, then?"  _ Steve mutters under his breath.

Louder, he says, "Copy. I'll keep you updated."

"Noted, Cap," Sam replies, then signs off of comms.

He knew that Sam meant well, really, he did. But it got annoying sometimes. And from all the times that he's had to hear snide comments about Tony coming from his friends' mouth made him mad. Really, it was beyond childish, picking sides. Besides, it was a mutual break-up, the decision something that  _ both _ of them had made, and having to hear such comments about Tony being weaved into conversations - and now on missions - was enough to make him want to punch something. It wasn't fair to Tony; he'd already paid for his mistakes. He wasn't aware that his friends were willing to stoop so low and bring up old news, but apparently, he was wrong.

He tamps down on his irritation and carries on striding towards the door, keeping his hand wrapped around the handle of his shield. He's able to push forward with the mission, knowing that the hostages were safe and that Sam had the situation handled. It made it easier to focus on his task of finding weapons when he knew that SHIELD was on their way, not that they'll get there on time, seeing as past occurrences proved their penchant for arriving late onto a scene.

He's forced to stop in his tracks, however, when the door he is heading towards is suddenly forced open wildly and he watches with a sense of mild resignation as it swings open with a squeal of protest.

At least a dozen men burst through the door and he sighs, wishing that for once in his life things would be easy.

They all head towards him, weapons held in front of them and he wastes no time in engaging, flinging his shield and he hears more than sees the whistle it makes as it slices through the night air and connects with its targets, knocking them out.

The shield returns and he uses it to block a punch as he ducks beneath a flailing limb. He kicks his leg out and by the sound of the grunt he hears, he's successfully taken down another enemy.

So far he's taken down six men with ease; it's the rest that are proving to be more of a challenge.

It's as he's watching two men head toward him with their weapons drawn that he's caught off guard by the return of the pain in his stomach and he grits his teeth to keep from making a sound.

His efforts are futile, however, when the pain washes over him in another strong wave and one of the men, the one probably in charge of the others, sees his moment of weakness and uses it to strike. 

As quick as lightning he's in front of Steve, landing a blinding punch to his face. The hit is hard enough to make his vision blur slightly, but it also forces him to focus on the mission rather than the pain in his stomach.

He ignores the pain that passes over his stomach every so often and focuses on taking down the armed enemies.

He throws a punch of his own and the attacker ducks, but he's too slow and Steve's fist glances his face. The blow to his attacker's face doesn't slow him down, in fact, it only serves to make him even more angry and he grabs something off the floor, swinging it out towards Steve. 

He moves out of the every with every swing of the attacker's arm, realizing what the object in his hand is as the light of the moon causes light to glint off of it.

It's a crowbar.

He's so busy trying to dodge swings from the crowbar that he doesn't see one of the men that he knocked out earlier stagger to his feet and come up behind him, choking him with a length of what he assumes to be rope.

The man with the crowbar grins and it's an ugly thing; showing off a row of blood-coated teeth and he can't help but feel a sense of pride in the fact that he managed to get the bastard.

He tightens his hand around the shield and tries to hit the man behind him but the man dodges out of the way, forcing him to move with him due to the rope around his neck.

For a second, he sees stars as his air supply is cut off and he struggles to gasp for breath.

His attackers don't seem to care, though, and what was earlier two men fighting against one enhanced was now three men against an enhanced. An unfair fight, but when were the rules of fighting ever considered to be fair?

He throws his arm out again and this time his shield-clad arm collides with that of his attacker's face, knocking him out completely. 

He sucks in a breath of air and charges towards the attacker. His throat still feels like it's burning from the lack of air, but he knows it's nothing but phantom pain. His nose feels bruised from the punches that he received.

His attacker meets his blows head-on, unafraid and giving Steve the best he's got.

His partner rushes towards Steve from the other side and he twists his body every so often from the one side to the other, dodging hits from both men.

Soon, only one man stands before him. His partner, the one who was quick to charge his way forward with the crowbar, is lying motionless on the floor.

The man is armed with a gun, and Steve watches him warily, prepared to take him down. The gun is one that he's never seen before, but what he can tell from what little he can make out through the dim light of the evening, is that it's outdated. Judging by the appearance, he's willing to bet that it's one of Tony's old Stark weapons. But just because it's old doesn't mean that it carries a lot of firepower.  _ Especially  _ if it's a Stark that made it.

He tenses when he sees the man cock his head to one side, mouth slowly forming into a chilling grin.

Then, before he even sees the man's finger release the trigger, his shield is in front of him. He hears the round of bullets ricochet off the shield and he moves forward slowly, shield held aloft.

The man sees him inching forward and, with a howl, throws himself onto the floor and picks up one of the abandoned weapons from his fallen comrades.

He fires quickly, and Steve is taken off-guard by the strength of the weapon; the blow was strong enough to throw him in the air and his back hits the railing of the upper deck. He groans as his unprotected head makes contact with the steel railing, ears ringing loudly. His cowl must've been knocked off his head during the blast.

Besides him, a stack of empty crates burst into flame and he can practically feel the heat burn through his uniform.

His attacker is stalking towards him, weapon now discarded and traded for another one; his friend's crowbar. He curses, knowing exactly what the man was intending to do and tries to get up, but he's stopped in his tracks when his stomach tenses and tightens once more. The pain is stronger than before and he struggles to muffle a gasp of pain, tears welling in his eyes. 

The man is now less than five feet away from him and he's started to walk faster, sensing that Steve wasn't just going to take a beating lying down.

His comm bursts to life in his ear. "Cap? You okay?" It's Natasha. She sounds a little winded, but knowing her she's perfectly fine and in control of the entire situation.

Unlike him.

He inhales, fighting back another pained groan at the pain it causes him. "Fine," he grits out. She doesn't reply and he takes it as her taking his word for it. The comm is silent once more.

He manages to stand, but pauses when the pain washes over him again. He grits his teeth and tries to breathe through it, but it's not quite enough to help him focus and ignore it. The man is now a foot away from him, and he doesn't hesitate in fighting his way forward. 

He's successful in dodging a couple of punches and kicks, only just, but he's not fast enough to dodge the oncoming blow with the crowbar. He pulls his shield up in front of him, but he's seconds too slow and the heavy tool knocks him in the side of his head.

He's knocked to the ground once more and he grunts in pain. His vision is blurry and he's suddenly dizzy, causing him to see double. Through his blurry vision he can just about make out a shadow in the shape of the man and he rolls away, but is stopped by the man placing a boot on his chest. Guess the man was closer than he thought.

"Think you're the shit, huh? Walking onto this ship like you own it and taking down men left, right and center. Well, think again, hotshot. You've got the wrong idea. Stark is the one in the wrong, getting the idea in his head that he's better than us when in reality he's no better than anyone else on this ship. Like it or not, those weapons belong to us and there's nothing you can do about it," the man spat out, drawing his leg back and kicking Steve in the stomach.

He swallows a gasp and grits his teeth, looking around for his fallen shield. It's two feet away, hidden between the crates where he last dropped it. Before the man gets any more ideas - such as kicking a fallen person once they're already down - he stands, moving into a fighting stance. The man sees this and scowls, immediately running towards him with his fists raised and Steve blocks every blow with blows of his own. He dodges a high flying kick and brings his fist up, knocking his attacker in the jaw. His attacker howls, angry at the assault, but it does nothing to stop and distract him. In fact, it only spurs him on and he glares at Steve before charging even closer. 

Steve holds his hands up to protect himself, but when the attacker tries to land a blow towards his already aching stomach, he grows annoyed. When was this man going to give up already?

He sighs before picking the attacker up by his collar and throws him towards the direction of the staircase he entered the upper deck from. Except, the attacker sails over the railing of the ship and Steve can just about make out the sounds of a distant splash.

He winces. He must've overcalculated the distance and the strength at which he threw the man.

With the attacker gone, he takes a moment to calm his labored breathing and takes stock of his surroundings. It's hard to focus properly, however, because the smoke from the blast, coupled with his already heavy breathing and the pain in his stomach worsening by what feels every couple of minutes, is making it hard for him to breathe.

His mind drifts towards the harsh kick that he received in his stomach, and he wonders if the pain he's feeling is because of it. Although he has no doubts that he's already black and blue from all the blows he's gotten tonight.

He's aware that no one can escape from a mission unharmed; if you did, you were one of the lucky ones and perhaps the odds were simply in your favor.

He ignores the pain coming from his stomach and wipes a hand across his face, coming across a cut that's bleeding slightly.  _ At least it's only a surface wound and not an internal one _ , he tells himself,  _ those are the ones you have to watch out for. _

With a sigh he heads towards the door he never even had a chance to reach before he was ambushed. As he's reaching towards the two crates of stolen Stark weapons, his comm buzzes in his ear.

"Whoa, Cap. I just saw someone fly over the side of the ship. I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to throw the guy overboard." It's Sam and he sounds somewhat amused by what he just witnessed.

He gives an exasperated sigh, and, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to encourage such acts no matter whether the people we're good or evil, he feels a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry. Forgot my own strength for a minute. Although, I'm pretty sure I just made SHIELD's job easier." he says, spying the speedboats just beyond the horizon. If he strains his ears, he can just about make out the oncoming helicopter, no doubt one belonging to SHIELD.

"Man, what are you apologizing and sounding all embarrassed for? Wish I could just be like 'oh, I forgot my strength for a minute' whenever I want and throw someone off a roof or something. Preferably Barnes and preferably from the Tower," Sam says and he laughs, shaking his head at the visual he gets.

"Cap, SHIELD is en route. ETA two minutes," comes Natasha's voice. A beat and then, "Wow, guess you can add throwing people overboard as one of your many other skills, Steve."

He feels his cheeks heat at Natasha's teasing tone.

"Whatever," he mutters, feeling embarrassed. He can't help but smile a little when he hears both Sam and Natasha laugh at his sad come back.

Pretty soon, SHIELD arrives on the scene. As predicted, they're late, but they walk onto the ship like they own the place. The agents flying the helicopter touch down on the ship's landing pad, and he winces at the less than graceful landing. He supposes it's one of the newer agents.

Hill slides open the door on the side of the helicopter and hops out. 

Not even two minutes later Sam and Natasha are climbing the staircase and joining him on the upper deck. They're talking quietly among themselves and he doesn't interrupt, watching the SHIELD agents do their job. They do a good job of collecting and pacifying the hostages that are shaken up. The SHIELD agents that arrived with Hill help collect and arrest the attackers that are strewn about various rooms on the ship. 

He turns around to see Hill snap cuffs on what he supposes is the leader of this entire operation. She perp walks him towards the helicopter and shoves him towards a waiting agent, who grabs him and shoves him into the seat. She blows out a breath and dusts off her hands, giving the leader one last stern look and stalks off the landing pad, walking towards him.

She comes to a stop to where they're standing and glances over the side of the railing, watching as one of the agents in the SHIELD-issue speedboat pulls the attacker that he threw overboard out of the water and snaps a pair of cuffs over his wrists. They pay no mind to his shivering and cursing and one of the agents gives a tiny salute in Hill's direction, to which she nods before turning to look at him and the others.

"Another mission well done, Cap," she claps him on the back and pulls a tablet from thin air, tapping away immediately.

At the indignant huff from Sam, she looks up, cocking a brow. "Did I miss something, Wilson?" she asks.

"Where's my thanks? I basically saved all those hostages by myself while Natasha did her own thing," he gripes. Hill rolls her eyes and laughs. "Thanks, Falcon. Do you want a gold star too? I can ask one of the agents if they happen to have any stickers on them," she teases and Sam throws his hands up, mumbling something about people not appreciating him enough.

Hill ignores him and goes back to tapping away on her tablet, consulting Natasha on a few things as she goes along.

When they're done, Hill tucks her tablet away and looks at each of them, scrutinizing them carefully.

When she speaks, it's directed towards Steve. "Fury will want a mission report by tomorrow morning. As for everything going on over here, SHIELD's got clean-up sorted. Get those weapons to Stark before he becomes an even bigger pain in Fury's ass. And get some rest, Cap, you look rough. All of you do."

"I'll have the report done bright and early. You sure you guys have everything handled?" he can't help asking.

Maria nods. "Yup." She smirks slightly. "The new agents have to learn somehow, right? I figured we should let them start out with a mission clean-up first."

He laughs and Sam and Natasha join in, glancing around the ship and seeing the agents busy with the task of cleaning up.

"Get some rest tonight, guys, you did well," Maria says and walks away, yelling across the ship to one of the agents.

The mission was finally over.

He could go back home to his apartment and rest.

They're walking onto the quinjet's ramp when Sam slows down slightly and gives him a once over. "I think when we land you should get yourself checked out. You don't look too hot," Sam says.

He shakes his head, shrugging Sam's worry off. Leaving the mission in a spotless condition was impossible, and if you did you were incredibly lucky. So far, he was the only one who looked to be in the worst condition, but he was okay with it. Just a couple of cuts littered across his face and hands. And the blood from the cut on his temple made everything look worse than it really was. Besides, the others were just as bruised and cut up as he was. 

If anything, he should be making  _ them  _ go down to medical for a check-up because he wasn't even with them to see whether they got injured or not.

"I'm fine, Sam. I don't need to get myself checked out," he says in what he hopes is a placating tone, "Just a couple of cuts and bruises. It will be gone in a couple of hours."

"I know. But I wasn't talking about the cuts and bruises. Sounded like you got one hell of a beating over the comms." Sam eyes the arm that he's wrapped around his aching stomach and he tenses slightly, dropping his arm. Sam raises an eyebrow and he looks away.

"I'm fine," he repeats. Sam nods.

"Whatever you say, man."

"Like I said, the cuts and bruises will heal soon. No use in wasting other people's time," he says, trying to explain himself. He didn't mean to make it sound so harsh earlier, but he was in pain and exhausted.

Sam huffs out a laugh, giving him a friendly clap on the back.

"If you say so."

"He smiles at Sam. "I do."

It's enough to make Sam drop the conversation and they make their way further into the quinjet. He settles in the co-pilot's seat beside Natasha and straps himself in.

When they finally land back at the tower's hangar bay, it's just pushing eleven-thirty. They stagger out of the quinjet, each of them carrying bits and pieces of their uniforms that they took off. 

The crates containing the Stark weapons are waiting to be offloaded and Sam wastes no time in grabbing one side of the crate and shoving. He gets with the plan quickly enough and helps Sam unload the crates.

Natasha watches them unhelpfully from the side of the hangar bay, leaning against the wall and using a knife that she pulled out of thin air to clean her nails. Not that they were dirty, just that she tended to do things like that to come off as intimidating or scary. Who knew why she did the things she did?

When they're done off-loading the crates she stands, her knife disappearing once more and she dusts her hands off, nodding appreciatively at the crates.

"We can leave the crates here, or we can bring them inside with us. I'm not sure if Tony is back from SI yet."

They nod.

"Okay, then we leave the crates here. We can always get them later. I don't know about you boys, but I plan on taking a long shower and then sleeping till the next afternoon. I don't care what Fury wants," Natasha says and Sam pulls a face.

"Hell, yeah. Me too, man. I'm wiped. See y'all tomorrow. Also, can we ignore the fact that I'm sleeping over tonight? I just don't see myself driving home right now," Sam asks, looking between them.

Natasha turns to look at him, a smirk playing on her lips. He feels himself smiling in return.

He guessed that they could finally say that they managed to convince Sam to stay in the tower, after all.

"I don't know, Wilson. Can we, Steve?" she asked teasingly.

He shrugged, playing innocent.

"I don't know, Natasha. It's up to you," he said.

"You two are the worst, you know that?" Sam threw up his arms.

Natasha laughed.

He joined in, but his laughter was cut short when his breath hitched as his stomach twisted painfully again, tightening uncomfortably.

He decided that it was best to leave their company and retreat to his apartment; he could already imagine the feeling of the hot water beating down his back, the pressure from the showerhead soothing the various aches and pains from the mission.

He bids each of them goodnight for the evening and takes the elevator down to his apartment. Once in the elevator, he leans back, banging his head against the wall. He allows his eyes to slip shut and he heaves a big sigh.

"Is everything okay, Captain?" he startles at the question from FRIDAY and his eyes shoot open.

"I'm fine, FRIDAY, just tired," he replies.

"Alright, Captain."

He shuts his eyes once more, thinking about the mission.

It's silent in the elevator, and he can't help it when he decides to ask FRIDAY about Tony.

He just wanted to know whether Tony would be able to collect the crates of weapons tomorrow morning or if he and Sam should take them to the workshop, that's all. He had absolutely no need to know whether Tony would be home soon, or if he was still at SI with Pepper.

But... he wasn't being truly honest with himself.

Truth be told, he was disappointed that Tony wasn't here to ask them how the mission went. Maybe it's because he feels the need to yell at Tony for leaving his weapons lying around and he has to clean up his messes, but he's not too sure where the emotions he's feeling are stemming from.

It's confusing, to say the least.

"FRIDAY, do you happen to know if Tony's home?" he asks. He feels a surge of embarrassment flood through him, and another emotion that he cannot place, but feels oddly like a mixture of hopefulness and disappointment.

"Yes, Captain. Boss left Stark Industries six hours ago and is currently five minutes away from the tower."

"Oh, okay," he says, surprised that Tony was already on his way back to the tower. Usually, when Tony flew out to California for business, he tended to stay an entire week, not overnight. "Thank you, FRIDAY."

"It's a pleasure, Captain Rogers."

There's silence, but he can tell that FRIDAY had more to say, and he frowns. Usually, the A.I would just come out and say whatever she wanted to say. It's just the way she was, and, since she was newer than JARVIS, and not quite as good as the other AI, she tended to come across as less polite and more sarcastic. But he supposes it's also because Tony programmed her to have her own personality and to sound less formal and stiff. 

"Yes, FRIDAY?"

A beat and then, "I apologize, Captain. I understood that you wished to relax, but Sergeant Barnes wished to know how the mission was."

He frowns slightly.

"Buck's still awake? Usually, he falls asleep when there's nobody else around."

"Sergeant Barnes fell asleep an hour ago, Captain, but his express wishes were that I wake him up as soon as you and the other arrived," FRIDAY explains.

He shakes his head at the explanation from FRIDAY, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell Bucky that I'm fine, and so are the others. He can go back to sleep. I'll go down to his apartment tomorrow," he tells FRIDAY.

"I will do so, Captain."

The elevator ride carries on in silence, and he allows himself to ease into the feeling of being at home once more.

When the elevator opens to his apartment, it feels like there's a huge weight that's been lifted from his shoulders.

He opens the door and steps inside, pulling the shield from his back and props it beside the front door, kicking the door shut with his heel as he starts tugging his gloves off.

He sighs, feeling exhausted.

He glances at the fridge, contemplating the idea of heating up a ready-to-go meal, but even that seems like too much effort. Besides, he's feeling slightly nauseous, and his bed seems to be calling his name even more than the ready-prepared meal was.

He finally reaches his bedroom and starts the ridiculously long process of removing the uniform. The process is made even longer - and he's forced to pause every few minutes - by the tender bruises scattered all along his body and the now constant aching in his abdomen.

The discomfort that he'd felt during the mission was beginning to border on mind-numbing pain every couple of minutes and to him, every time the pain slammed into him, it felt like he was standing along a precipice, being pushed further and further towards the edge until he felt as if he could carry on no further.

It was horrible, but nothing compared to what he'd endured before.

So he grits his teeth and breathes through it, carrying on with his task of stripping and hopes the hot water and the pressure from the shower jets will help ease a bit of the pain radiating from his aching body.

The pain in his abdomen, he knew, was something that he'd have to sleep off and the serum would do its job.

He turns the handle on the tap, letting the water run until it's hot and he shimmies out of the last of the uniform, stepping into the warm spray.

The warmth from the shower, and the pressure of the spray as it falls down his back causes him to hiss from all the bruises that cover his body, but he stands still and allows it to run its course and soon he's feeling slightly better, the aches in his body easing a little more.

Now that he's undressed, it's easier to assess the damage; nothing but a few scrapes and bruises.

What captures his attention is his middle. The small bump that he'd found hours ago is basically one big bruise, green with a few areas turning blue and purple already. He prods at the curve of his stomach lightly, finding it to be tender and tighter than it was before.

He frowns, but carries on with the task of scrubbing himself clean.

He's reaching for the bottle of shampoo when his stomach tightens, and he drops his hand, knocking a few bottles down from the shower ledge and they clatter to the floor, one opening and spilling its contents.

He pays no mind to the mess on the shower floor, eyes shut tight. He groans as the pain seems to increase, and he leans his head against the wall of the shower. The hand that he dropped when reaching for the bottle of shampoo trails down towards the bump, feeling as it tightens beneath his palm.

"Captain, is everything alright?" FRIDAY's concerned tone filters through the hidden speakers and he nods despite the fact that she can't see him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, FRIDAY," he mumbles, continuing to breathe in and out, his eyes remaining shut.

"Are you certain, Captain? My scanners are detecting an increase in - "

"FRIDAY, it's fine. I'm fine."

The A.I. goes silent and he's able to move away from the shower wall once more when the pain fades.

He sighs when he glances down towards the mess of bottles at his feet and he bends down to retrieve them.

FRIDAY's voice comes from the speakers what feels like two minutes later.

"Captain, I am sorry to disturb your shower but I thought that you would like to know that Boss has just returned to the tower. He is entering the garage as we speak. Should I pass on the message that you'd like to speak with him about the mission?" she asks.

He pauses, biting his lips as he contemplates meeting up with Tony to discuss the mission.

"I, uh." He struggles to find words.

FRIDAY is silent, and he imagines that if she were a living, breathing person, she'd be amused by his fumbling and awkwardness regarding his ex.

"Okay, FRIDAY. You can pass on the message. Tell him, uh, tell him that he can meet me in my apartment?" he says, unsure of whether or not it was a good idea.

"Will do, Captain."

This time he hurries through the rest of his shower. He's rinsing the suds from his body when a hard cramp hits and he can't help but let out a muffled scream that comes from his mouth. He leans against the wall for support, legs feeling unsteady as the pain just seems to intensify by each passing second. He screws his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lip at the pain that racks his entire frame, the familiar tang of iron coating his tongue. He must've bitten his lip so hard that he drew blood.

This time the pain takes longer to taper off, and by the end of it his body feels like it's been coated in a layer of cool sweat despite the fact that he was still in the shower. When the pain releases its vice-like claws from his body, he wastes no time in shutting the water off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing the towel he'd laid out earlier to dry himself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Y'all can yell at me all you want about how frustrating it is that Steve is so oblivious to what's going on with his body. I promise you, I will yell along with you. Steve is clearly in denial.
> 
> Next up, Steve and Tony meet up to discuss the "mission" and the long-awaited labor arrives.
> 
> I'm currently busy writing the next chapter, so please bear with me.
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos and comment what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Tony have an awkward meeting to discuss the recent mission, ignore the elephant in the room, and Steve finally gives birth.

Steve enters his bedroom, heading towards his closet. He shivers and regrets not setting out his clothing earlier. He knows, rationally, that the temperature wasn't any cooler than it usually was, but in his head it seemed colder, and his mind drifts to less pleasant thoughts. Memories of cold winters and snow storms more than seventy years ago.

He shakes his head, annoyed at himself for conjuring up such horrible thoughts, and unwraps the towel that was wrapped around his waist, trying to get dressed as quickly as possible to stay warm.

He's just slipped on his t-shirt and was about to pull on a pair of comfy sweatpants when FRIDAY alerts him to the fact that Tony was standing outside his apartment door.

He freezes.

"Shall I tell Boss that you're getting dressed?" FRIDAY asks and he frowns.

"No! No, uh, you can let him in so long. Tell him that I, uh, tell him that I'll be out soon," Steve says.

He picks up his sweatpants from where he's dropped them on the floor and starts pulling them on.

He's reaching for the oversized hoodie that he'd lent from Bucky and just never found the need to return when a painful cramp causes him to seize up, and he chokes on a breath of air, eyes tearing at the pain radiating from his abdomen and the pressure building up in his pelvic region.

"Oh god," he groans, trailing one hand down to his abdomen.

A cold sweat breaks out across his body and he pants through the pain.

He stands there for so long that he forgets about Tony who's waiting for him in the lounge, until a knock on the door brings him out of the panic and pain-fuelled haze he finds himself in.

"Steve? I brought dinner, but I couldn't find the rest of the plates. They're not in the place you usually leave them in and -"

"I'm coming. Just - just give me a minute!" he yells in reply and his serum-enhanced hearing picks up the sounds of Tony's sigh, before he walks away.

He feels guilty for yelling at Tony until another cramp comes, this time sharper and lasting longer than the rest he's felt all day, and he moves closer to the edge of his bed, his legs feeling as if they're about to give out beneath his weight.

He tries to breathe through the pain, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to center himself, but it's not working; the pain is fierce and the pressure adds to his discomfort.

And then there's a sudden and unexpected pop and a fluid gushes from somewhere, wetting his sweatpants. His eyes widen, surprised at what just happened. "What the fuck?" He mutters. Did he just  _ wet  _ himself?

Really, of all things to happen to him today, and while Tony was currently a  _ room away. _

He feels a surge of hot embarrassment and disgust flow through his body and he tears his eyes away from the small puddle of bodily fluids on the floor and soaking his sweatpants.

He waits for another cramp to come, but when none comes he deems it safe to move once again.

He straightens up and takes a deep breath, releasing it once again when he feels the tension in his body ease up.

He tugs off his sweatpants, ignoring the wet patch and throws it in the direction of the laundry basket before pulling out another pair and slipping it on.

When he's dressed - for the second time in one evening - he pulls a hand through his hair and bites his lip, trying to build up the courage to leave the bedroom and face Tony who was no doubt going to pretend everything between them was normal and ask questions about the mission.

The one mission where everything that could go wrong with him went wrong.

Honestly, what god did he manage to anger in such a short period of time that they thought it was necessary to punish him like this?

His ma always did say he attracted all sorts of trouble. Landed himself in the thick of it, too.

He huffs out a laugh, albeit, this time shaky, and finds himself struggling to hold back a fond smile. 

If only his ma could see him now, too chicken shit to leave his bedroom and talk to his ex. She'd laugh if she could see him.

He blows out a breath and glances at the door, before deciding that he was done hiding and turned the handle and stepping out.

When he finally steps out of the safety from his bedroom, he hears the sound of Tony's muffled cursing and various cupboards opening and closing.

He watches Tony from the kitchen's entryway and the longer he watches, he feels a tiny part of him twist painfully at what was no longer his.

Tony takes a while to notice him, focused on his task of opening the takeout containers, but when he does, the smile he sends Steve's way is blinding. And he can't help but notice that while it's one of the smiles Tony used to give him a lot when they were dating, it was also a tiny bit tense and brittle around the edges, as if Tony was tired but was afraid to show it.

"Hey! FRIDAY told me you guys managed to get the - Steve, what the  _ hell _ happened to your face?" Tony sounds concerned, a frown marring his features.

Tony's hand reaches towards his face, gently probing at the cut on his temple.

His eyes are staring intently on the gash and, unbeknownst to him, he's moved the exact amount of steps from the kitchen counter to the entryway, which puts him smack bang in Steve's personal space bubble.

Tony's intense gaze and the worry and gentleness with which he checks over the tiny - still very much  _ not _ healed, which he found to be odd, but was in favor of ignoring it for the moment - cut across his temple makes Steve uncomfortable, and he swallows against the lump that's formed in his throat and refuses to budge no matter what.

When Tony presses the pad of his finger lightly against the tender bruise surrounding the cut, he finds himself suddenly unable to draw in a breath, his eyes locked with Tony's.

The moment is ruined when he clears his throat, stepping away from Tony's careful touches and worried gaze.

"I'm fine, Tony," he mutters, voice hoarse for reasons he can't tell. "It's just a simple cut."

He's not looking at Tony, so he completely misses the way Tony freezes up, almost as if he's just realized what he had been doing, a blank look settling over his face. Tony steps away, clearing his own throat and turns his back to Steve, hands fiddling with the takeout containers.

"Okay, then," he hears Tony mutter. Steve can't help but think it's something Tony didn't intend for him to hear. But then Tony says "I'm glad you and the others made it back safe and uninjured, Rogers. Well, for the most part."

Hearing Tony use his last name instead of calling him 'Steve' like he did earlier makes something inside of him pang, and he resists the urge to just ask Tony to use his name. Was it really that bad between them? That Tony was willing to pretend that they were never even together? 

It made him feel sad and hurt, and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little angry, too.

"Yeah, we're back," he mutters, "Safe and uninjured."

Tony doesn't say anything, and he assumes that Tony didn't hear what he said. If Tony did, then he's doing a good job of pretending that he didn't.

He moves to one of the cupboards and removes two mugs, settling them down on the counter besides the coffee machine. 

Tony looks up, and when he sees the coffee brewing his entire face lights up. Then he sees Steve watching him and nods towards one of the many paper bags containing takeout. 

"I know how much energy missions take, and I thought you might be hungry. Wasn't sure what you were in the mood for, and, uh, I might have overdone it a bit." Tony rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing at his lips.

He's taken aback by the movement, and wonders when he missed the changes in Tony. Because Tony Stark  _ never _ got embarrassed. And not by a simple act of ordering too much takeout. 

Then he wonders if maybe it's  _ him  _ that was causing Tony to act the way he was, and he feels a surge of discomfort and guilt wash over him. 

Here they were, finally spending time together after months of ignoring each other and the relationship they had had, and he manages to make Tony uncomfortable to the point where he gets embarrassed.

Didn't they promise that no matter what, they'll always be friends? And friends hung out and ate together, but he made things awkward between them.

When he doesn't reply, Tony looks down at the counter, fingers drumming a beat that only he could hear in his head.

"So." Tony says, after a pregnant pause, "I decided to get a bit of everything. I figured that if you didn't like it then more for me, right?"

Tony's rambling now, hands gesturing to the takeout containers and the paper bags containing what he guessed to be even more takeout.

Just how many people did Tony plan on feeding? And just how much did Tony panic?

Because as long as he knew Tony, he knew that Tony was so hung up on pleasing everyone and making other people comfortable and happy, that he tended to panic and then he overthought things. Which, over recent years and stories that he's heard from both Rhodey and Pepper - they'd laughed about it when they'd warned him about Tony's tendency to gift others, especially the ones he loves - resulted in huge bunnies sitting in driveways and custom cars as anniversary or birthday presents.

This was pretty small-scale compared to that, but it was still a little overwhelming.

And the fact that Tony had bought all that takeout - he'd noticed that there were different paper bags, and assumed Tony had bought from various places - shows just how nervous he was to meet up with Steve and discuss the mission.

Although Steve's under no impression that Tony was actually nervous to talk about the mission, rather the fact that Tony was nervous to be in the same space with  _ him. _

"Right," he says, glancing down at his hands, before meeting Tony's gaze.

Tony was the first to look away, clapping his hands together and angling his body towards the counter.

"Right. So there's Pad Thai in that bag, just never got to opening it yet, and then there's dumplings. The chili oil should be somewhere on the counter. There's pappardelle pasta with duck ragu and truffle oil, potstickers and spring rolls. Oh, and I got some sushi."

Tony turns to look at him, then tilts his head in question.

_ "Anndd  _ you're staring. What?" Tony asks.

He shakes his head, shocked at the sheer amount of food that Tony had ordered for only two people.

And now that he could finally see all the food, it's like his sense of smell finally caught up with the rest of what he was currently seeing, because he lost what little appetite he had just by all the rich smells that the food gave off. Not that it was bad, just that the smell of the food made him even more nauseous than he already was.

"Nothing, nothing. Uh, you can make yourself comfortable, I'll get the coffee," he says, turning away from the food in the hopes that just by angling his face and nose away from the takeout, he won't have to smell it anymore. His efforts are in vain because he can still smell the food, and he tries to breathe through his mouth.

He tries not to focus on the nausea that seems to be rolling around in the pit of his stomach, but it brings his attention to something else; his belly is cramping up again. He inhales, one hand falling to his stomach and he falters, closing his eyes and praying for the pain to fade.

"FRIDAY told me that the crates have been - You okay?" Tony asks, brows furrowed in concern. He curses internally at his bad luck and looks at Tony, giving him a small, tense smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lies through his teeth, hoping that Tony would buy the lie. Tony nods, then goes back to his phone, and he thanks any god who happens to be watching for small mercies. He figures that Tony was looking over the footage that FRIDAY sent him of their mission.

The pain fades and he carries on with his task of getting the coffee pot, listening with half an ear to Tony reviewing the mission stats.

He's about to bring the coffee pot over to the section of the counter where they've chosen to sit when the pain returns, and this time he can't contain his pained gasp, his grip loosening on the pot's handle. Tony's head shoots up from the table, a frown on his face, but then Tony sees what's happening and rushes over to help.

"Shit, Steve. What's wrong?" he asks. Tony grabs the coffee pot from his hands and puts it back then turns to face him.

"Captain Rogers, I think it's best -"

"FRIDAY, it's fine. Leave it," he growls.

"Rogers, what the hell is happening? You're as pale as a fucking sheet. I swear to god, if you're hurt -"

He bats Tony's hovering hands away and moves out of the enclosed space, inhaling deeply. He makes to leave the kitchen area, wanting to get away from Tony, but he doesn't get too far. The living room is as far as he's able to get, Tony close on his heels and still arguing when he feels the pain return with a vengeance and he doubles over, clutching at his stomach with both hands. He groans, closing his eyes.

"Rogers, are you - Wait, are you hurt? Why the  _ fuck  _ haven't you gotten yourself checked out yet? What happened on that mission?" Tony tries to ask, hand rubbing uselessly at Steve's back in an effort to comfort him.

Other times he'd find the act sweet, but now it was just serving to drive him even more up the wall than he already was. God, he was in pain and so, _so_ _tired_. Why did Tony have to keep arguing and annoying him? 

"Tony, I don't know. Just - FRIDAY, can you-"

He's cut off when the pain gets worse and he cries out, grabbing at anything in the near vicinity to hold on to, and when his hand finds Tony's bicep, he squeezes, trying and failing to breathe through the pain.

He's panicking, realizing that something is severely wrong.

Tony seems to realize this too, because he doesn't complain at how hard Steve's holding onto his arm, but directs his attention to the A.I. and encircles his free hand around Steve's waist, guiding him to the elevator.

"FRIDAY, honey, I need you to alert the staff we have in medical that we have a situation. Tell them to be prompt," Tony orders.

"Steve, you know, there are times when I want to punch you in your face for your stubbornness. We need our team leader, and believe it or not, you can't lead a team if you're dying," Tony says, a hysterical edge in his voice. The elevator doors slide closed behind them.

He feels a wave of guilt wash over him, and he tries to apologize, but his words are swallowed up by a groan when the pain comes back again.

He tightens his grip on Tony's shirt, wanting the pain to just disappear already, but it seems to take its own sweet time and lasts longer than what he expects.

Tony tries to help by grabbing his hand in a show of support, and tells him to just breathe.

"Why didn't you go to medical? You're trembling and I've never seen you in this much pain before. Ever."

He laughs bitterly. "Yeah, of course not. You weren't exactly here all the time, Tony, how would you know? And don't preach, you're just as stubborn. I figured that the pain would disappear, that the serum would kick in once I fell asleep," he snaps. 

Then the fight leaves him and he closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall of the elevator.

He didn't mean to snap at Tony. It was shitty of him to say the things he did, and to refer to things that were in the past. How was Tony supposed to know that he hurt Steve? Especially since it was a mutual breakup and they agreed on staying friends.

"Yeah, Steve, but you could have at least told someone that you weren't okay. What if I hadn't come up? And then what?" Tony questions.

He refuses to look Tony in the eye, not wanting to see the anger on Tony's face, or to see the hurt that his harsh words caused Tony.

"Tony, I really don't want to argue right now," he says tiredly, lifting his head from the wall and staring at the numbers showing which floor they were on. They were close to the medical floor.

He knew Tony was right, but admitting it in his head and saying it out loud were two very different things.

Then he hears Tony sigh. "Sorry. I'm not trying to upset you. I'm just concerned about a friend."

He's about to respond when he feels another cramp build, and he bites his lip, his head tipping back and eyes slipping shut as he tries to breathe. His hand falls down to his abdomen, feeling the warm skin beneath his palm. Even dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants he was burning up. And to think that earlier he was getting cold.

Tony sees this and looks at him worriedly, then directs his attention to the camera positioned in the shadows of the top-most corner of the elevator.

"FRIDAY, how long till we reach the med floor? Make the elevator move faster, can't you tell that we're in a hurry?"

If he were feeling any better, he would've laughed. Tony usually made fun of him whenever he used to talk to JARVIS and look towards the ceiling. Even now, a few years and a brand new A.I. later he still does it. What can he say? Old habits die hard.

But as it stands, he was in too much pain to huff out a laugh, much less laugh normally.

"Sorry, Boss. The elevator is moving as fast as it can. If I increase the speed any more problems may arise. You  _ are  _ on the ninety-first floor. Estimated time of arrival two minutes," the A.I states.

Tony shakes his head, a look of frustration on his face.

Then he turns to Steve. "I'm sorry. Just - hang on so long, okay?" he says.

This time he finds the energy to huff out a laugh despite the heart-wrenching pain he was in.

"It's okay, Tony. I've been hanging on  _ all  _ day, I think I can manage a couple of minutes more."

The two minutes to the medical floor - which lies between the Avengers' private floors and the floors for S.I personnel - seems like the longest sixty seconds of his life. The stabbing pain doesn't recede and return any longer, thankfully, but there is a dull ache in his lower abdomen, and the area feels heavy. It's a strange feeling, and he doesn't think that heavy describes it well, but it's the closest thing he could think of. 

There's also a slight increase in pressure in his pelvic area, which he does his best to ignore, hoping for his sake that he doesn't wet himself again - this time  _ in front  _ of Tony. He doesn't think he'll be able to deal with the amount of shame and embarrassment if it should happen again.

Throughout the elevator ride down to medical, Tony remains a constant presence by his side, a warm hand resting on whatever part of his body he could reach. He won't admit it out loud, especially since a part of him is fighting against accepting the touch from his ex, but Tony's presence, and by extension, his touch, makes him feel so much more at ease and comforted. That whatever was happening wasn't so bad with Tony by his side.

It's as they're getting to the last two floors before medical that the pain starts building up. It's slow, which means that he doesn't feel the difference at once, but it means that as soon as they've finally reached the medical floor that the pain becomes noticeable.

He winces, tightening his grip on Tony and Tony stops in his tracks, eyeing him worriedly. "Hang on, Steve, we're nearly there. Just -"

He shakes his head, breathing in deeply, then straightens his posture, trying to give Tony a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Tony. I know," he cuts in.

Tony looks as if he doesn't believe a word he says, which, okay, he wouldn't either, but Tony is at least nice enough not to say anything.

Instead, Tony puts a hand on his lower back, guiding him gently out of the elevator and onto the medical floor.

It's silent, but then again, at this time of the night, the medical floor is pretty silent, what with all the usual staff having gone home for the night and a handful of staff remaining just in case of any emergency.

They don't make it far before the pain returns, this time not having any leniency, and he gasps.

Tony turns to look at him, then directs his attention to FRIDAY once more.

"FRIDAY, get me someone who can help. Right now! It's an emergency!"

Not even two minutes later a doctor comes rushing out of a room, her white coat trailing behind her as she takes long strides to where they're standing.

Relief washes over him at the sight of the doctor. But the pain is simply too strong for him to focus on anything else and he groans in pain again.

She takes one look at them, then her eyes widen, and she leads them to a room.

They follow her, Tony guiding him and hurling question after question at the doctor. He doesn't bother telling Tony to stop from drilling the woman; the pain is so sharp that it's taking every bit of self-restraint he has not to collapse in a heap on the floor and curl around himself. 

"Captain Rogers, I need you to take a seat on the bed over there. Mr. Stark, do you mind giving me a minute with the Captain?" the doctor's voice is calm, but steely when she speaks to Tony.

He's not the only one who detects it, because Tony's eyes narrow, and he scowls.

"I don't like your tone,  _ Doctor.  _ I'm just concerned about my friend, and the Captain of my team. Forgive me for worrying," Tony says.

This time he finds himself intervening.

"Tony, just - maybe you should leave. I'm sure you can come - Ah!" he stops, crying out when another cramp starts to build, almost as if they were one on top of the other. 

He can hear sounds in the background of the hospital room, as well as distorted voices of both Tony and the doctor, but he finds it difficult to focus on them through the ongoing pain.

He curls around himself even tighter.

"What's wrong with him? Your A.I. informed me of a mission -"

"What the hell is wrong with him? Something is wrong, he never reacts to pain  _ this  _ badly! FRIDAY, do a scan," Tony says over the doctor, sounding slightly hysterical, and more than a little panicked. He's never seen Steve in pain like this before, and it terrifies him. Even when Steve got hurt on missions, he just gritted his teeth and carried on.

The doctor is now at his side, trying to get him to uncurl from his position and breathe, but the pain is getting to be too much and he's starting to feel lightheaded.

He agrees with Tony. Never, not once since receiving the serum, has he ever experienced pain this severe.

"Mr. Stark, I must ask you to leave the room. I understand that you are worried about your Captain's wellbeing, but you are -"

The doctor is cut off once again, this time by FRIDAY.

"Boss, I'm detecting a heartbeat. The Captain is experiencing labor," FRIDAY informed them.

She seems unfazed by this information, almost as if she already knew. And she probably did. 

Tony turns to face him, mouth slack.

"You're - you're pregnant?" he asks faintly.

He and Tony stare at each other, both of their faces conveying the same set of emotions; panic, worry, concern and confusion.

"I'm, no, I can't be. I'm not even - Tony, the mission," he hears himself say, voice panicked.

"How - what?"

"The Captain is thirty-two weeks pregnant. He is currently entering the active stage of labour," FRIDAY chimes in once more.

"I'm not… I'm not. Oh god, I can't be. It's not possible - I - ah!" he cries out, throwing his head back as the pain shoots through his abdomen once more.

The doctor puts her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down until he's lying down on the bed.

"Mr. Stark, I need you to stop. Captain Rogers, you  _ are _ pregnant. And right now, I need you to listen to me, okay?" she addresses him. 

He opens his mouth to say yes, but all he can do is groan as his stomach cramps up.

Now he can't help but see all the signs that he was pregnant. How on earth did he miss something like this? The loss of appetite, the sudden bouts of dizziness and migraines. The slight weight that he picked up - not that he  _ was  _ showing. The strange changes that he'd picked up on weren't because he was pushing himself after a bad break-up, or because he was simply exhausted, but because he was pregnant. The signs were glaringly obvious.

And now he was supposed to give birth to a baby he wasn't even aware he was carrying in the first place.

The cramps were coming faster and faster, and were more intense than the rest he'd been experiencing than the others before it.

"Captain, I know you're in a lot of pain right now, but I have to ask you a question and you need to answer me, okay? How long have you been feeling these pains?" The doctor asked him.

She was moving around the room, moving supplies and equipment around that he couldn't name, not that he was interested in it or could focus on it for too long.

"I don't know. A while. I thought that if I slept it off the serum would kick in. I didn't know I was pregnant." 

He stumbles over a few of the words, biting his lip to keep from crying out from the onslaught of pain what felt like every two seconds.

Tony cuts in. "And you didn't think, not even once, that something might be wrong? Did it even  _ occur  _ to you that we have a medical floor, with a very well-paid staff who can diagnose these sort of things?"

The doctor shoots Tony a scathing look and Tony sighs, then mutters something under his breath. Something that Steve can't hear. Louder, Tony says, "Sorry."

It's half-hearted and it clearly sounds as if he is anything  _ but  _ sorry, but it doesn't seem to matter to the doctor and she focuses her attention on Steve once more.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. That's alright, Steve. Is it okay if I call you that?" she asks.

He nods, unable to speak.

She gives him a small smile.

"Okay then. Can you tell me more or less when you started to get the contractions? In terms of this evening or this afternoon, or -"

"Uh, this morning? I think. Right before I left for the mission," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Steve. Now, I'm going to need to check a few things."

She stands up and grabs something that he can't see before returning.

"Steve, you need to change into this before I can perform the ultrasound. I need to check if everything is alright with both you and the baby. It's not the best time, since we'd usually do this before someone enters active labor, but it's all we can do at the moment," she says.

He takes the gown from her.

"Wait, but they're both okay, right? This is just a normal part of labor?" Tony asks.

The doctor turns to look at him.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, this is all just a normal part of being in labor, I'm afraid. I'm sure Steve and the baby are healthy, but as he went on a mission and he's in labor before the usual thirty-seven weeks, this is simply standard procedure. We have to perform an ultrasound, and then fetal heart monitoring."

"And fetal monitoring is what exactly?" Tony presses.

The doctor glances at Steve, then at Tony.

"Fetal heart monitoring is the act of monitoring the baby's heart rate and rhythm. We do this in the delivery room and it happens during labor. Usually it's done in conjunction with other tests, such as comparing the baby's heart rate with the rate of the mother's contractions. As I've said before, Mr. Stark. Your Captain and his baby are most likely fine, this is just standard procedure because he's entered labor before the preferred thirty-seven weeks, and because he's most likely experienced additional stress from the mission," she assures.

Tony nods.

The doctor glances at Steve, then picks up her clipboard and leaves, giving him some privacy so he can get changed into the hospital gown.

He struggles into an upright position, and Tony rushes to help him.

It's quiet between them, but he's not wanting to disturb the silence.

He's honestly in shock of the news. 

He's pregnant.

And the baby is Tony's.

Tony helps him take off his clothes and slip the gown on, a furrow between his brows.

He must be itching to say something, because the silence doesn't last long between them.

"Is it mine? The baby, I mean," Tony asks. He sounds slightly annoyed, a mixture of panic and something he can't quite place seeping into Tony's voice.

"What do you want me to say, Tony?" he snaps, "I haven't slept with anyone else but you. And I haven't thought about sleeping with anyone else since we broke up."

Tony takes a step back and he sighs.

"I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know, Tony. If I knew I was pregnant - that I could get pregnant, I would've told you. I didn't know and now -"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. Sorry, I was just making sure. I mean, the dates match up and everything, I guess I just needed you to say that I was right," Tony says.

"Well, you're right. I'm pregnant with your child. And about to give birth, too." he says.

Tony chuckles slightly.

"Listen, I know we said things between us were over and -"

"Tony, not now. We'll talk about it later." Steve closes his eyes and tries to breathe slowly through the pain that starts to build up again.

"I -"

"Tony! Please!" he cries out, body seizing as another contraction hits.

Steve groans and doubles over, grabbing at Tony blindly for the sake of holding onto something to ground him as the contraction peaks.

"I know, I know. It'll be over soon, okay?" Tony soothes, rubbing his small circles on his back.

When the contraction seems as if it's beginning to taper off slowly, Tony helps guide him back to the bed.

As soon as he's back on the bed, Tony sits beside him, looking at him in concern. "Does it hurt that much?" Tony asked.

Steve nods, giving Tony a small, pained smile. "It hurts more than anything I've ever felt before." Steve's voice is hoarse, and the longer he sits on the bed he feels the exhaustion practically roll off himself in waves. The mission that he went on earlier and the added pain from the contractions did nothing to help.

The door to the room opens once more and the doctor comes in, a young nurse pushing a cart on her heels.

The doctor smiles at both of them, eyeing them from where they're sitting on the bed. Tony is quick to hop up, though, once the doctor is in the room and he stands vigil beside the bed that Steve is laying on, instead of sitting on the edge like he did earlier.

As much as he hates to admit it, he misses the heat from Tony's weight by his side, and a nasty voice in the back of his head reminds him that yes, this might be Tony's child that he was carrying and about to give birth to, but from Tony's words earlier, all that he would ever be to Tony was his Captain and "friend". Nothing more, nothing less.

"I hope it's okay with you, Captain, but I managed to find a nurse that was still on call. She's here to help set up the monitor, but will leave as soon as she's done," the doctor informs them.

At the mention, the young nurse looks up, smiling at them shyly. "Good evening, Captain, Mr Stark. I'm Nurse Hannah. Don't worry, as the doctor said, I'm just here to set up the monitor and then I'll be out of your hair soon," she said.

Tony quirks his lips up in a semblance of a smile, nodding at her once then looks at the doctor again.

"Okay, Doctor?" Tony pauses, then tilts his head to the side, "sorry, I just realized I don't know your name."

The doctor laughed, paying him no mind as she helped the nurse with the monitor.

"I'm Doctor Mikhailov, but you can just call me Doctor or Moira, whichever works for you."

"Okay! Doctor, you said that you were going to do a fetal monitor… check thing, right? Is that what this is for?" Tony asks, waving his hand in the direction to the monitor on the cart.

The doctor stands, facing them. Then she nods at the young nurse, dismissing her.

The nurse leaves the room and it's only when the door is closed does the doctor address them once more.

"That's right, yes. It doesn't do anything. It won't hurt at all. All that I need you to do is lift up your gown so that I can attach this band."

She holds up a black band that looks a bit like an oversized elastic band with velcro straps at each end. There are wires attached to the band that hook up to monitor.

"I - okay." He lifts the hospital gown up so that his upper waist and abdomen are exposed. He's extremely glad for the thin sheet that covers his lower half, feeling uncomfortable now that he had the doctor  _ and  _ Tony with him in the room. At least the doctor was easier to ignore, Tony, on the other hand, was not.

It's only because he was paying attention to the doctor and watching her facial expressions as she spoke that he managed to catch her concerned expression when she catches sight of his abdomen. 

His abdomen that is mottled with bruises in all shapes and sizes.

She shares a quick glance with Tony - another look that he manages to catch - and the two share a wordless conversation. Then the concern is wiped from her face. He supposes she's one of the doctors with better bedside manner, and he would've appreciated it any other time but right now.

So he can't help but feel slight panic at the quick look of concern that the doctor directed towards his stomach. 

He doesn't even have the time to ask her what's wrong, because then Tony cuts in, sounding angry.

"Jesus, Rogers. Did you just lay there and let every bad guy decide to lay into you? You're practically black and blue all over!" Tony snaps.

The Doctor - Moira - puts the band down on the bed besides him, then turns to Tony.

Steve can't see her facial expression because she's turned her back to him so that she could face Tony, but from the way he sees her straighten up, he can tell that she's just about had it with Tony.

Not that Steve can blame her, of course. He was getting tired of Tony, too. He was really tired of Tony snapping at him and questioning him when it really wasn't his place to. If this bothered Tony so much, then he could take the elevator upstairs to the penthouse and pretend that none of this was happening.

And Tony was really good at pretending that things didn't happen. Him ignoring the fact that they dated and carrying on as usual is a clear indication of that.

"Mr. Stark, I really don't care  _ who  _ you think you are, but this is my job. If you're going to cause my patient any more stress, then you can leave. I don't have the time, nor the patience to deal with your attitude and remarks. Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

Tony nodded, a look of defeat on his face. He took a couple of steps back, holding his hands in the air in a placating manner. "Sorry, I'll just stand to the side," Tony apologized.

The doctor stared at him a little longer, then turned her back on him.

Now that she was no longer chewing Tony out for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong and was now focusing all of her attention on him once more, he suddenly felt even more nervous, a lump forming at the back of his throat.

She didn't meet his gaze, eyes trained instead on his stomach area, more specifically, the  _ bruises _ that were scattered all over his stomach. Her face was carefully blank, but that just served to make him even more nervous, and he clenched his hands into fists on either side of his body.

"Captain, sorry, Steve. Were these bruises caused during the mission?" she asked.

Steve nods, then realizes she isn't looking at his face and he clears his throat, then answers. "I - uh, yes, they were." His voice is hoarse.

Her head shoots up, and she looks at him, then back down towards his stomach. 

Steve realizes that he can feel the beginning of a contraction start in the pit of his abdomen, right beneath his belly button; the pain is starting to ramp up in small increments. He inhales, trying to brace for the pain that he knows is about to hit him soon.

The doctor notices this and reaches a hand out towards his stomach. "Can I touch you? I just want to check something. I assume you're experiencing a contraction?" She asks.

He nods, giving her a brittle smile. "Yeah, it's not quite as painful yet, but if it's anything like the ones I experienced earlier, it's going to feel worse soon."

The doctor gives him a sympathetic smile. "Sadly, I can't tell you that you're wrong. From here on out the contractions get worse. But it gets better later. In the end, it's all worth it, I promise. Then you'll feel as if none of this mattered, because then you finally get to hold your baby," she says. 

She reaches out towards his stomach, then presses lightly against the area below his belly button, moving her hand upwards and feeling for something that only she knows.

He hisses as she presses against one of the more painful bruises on his stomach, and she quickly retracts her hand, then moves it to another area.

The look on her face is thoughtful, like she's concentrating really hard on something.

When she straightens up and removes her hand from his stomach, he exhales, unaware of the fact that he's been holding in a breath the entire time. 

"So you're definitely in labor. This is good, which means we're one step closer to meeting baby." She sounds cheerful, and slightly excited. Steve, on the other hand, feels anything but. He feels the exact opposite. Nervous, scared, upset, confused. 

"Okay! So, I'll just wrap this band around your stomach, and it will monitor your contractions, as well as your baby's heartbeat and rhythm. Which is what I'm most concerned about. The data will be displayed on the monitor over here so that I can see what's going on," she explains to him and he feels as if he can breathe easier now that he knows exactly what is going to happen.

She does as she's explained, being extra gentle when wrapping the band around his stomach, mindful of his bruises, then gives him the okay to tuck his gown back down. Which he does, feeling better now that he wasn't on display anymore. Not in front of her,  _ or  _ Tony.

She does a few other things, but he's not paying attention to any of her movements. Instead, he's lost in thought; how  _ did _ he manage to miss the fact that he was pregnant?

Steve knew that he wasn't able to fall pregnant, at least, not until now, but he always thought that because of all his illnesses and all the times he's fallen sick in the past that he was infertile. That's what all the doctors told him, and while he wasn't too upset when he'd just gotten that news, years later, when he and Tony had gotten together he couldn't help but feel sad that they wouldn't be able to have children together. In the end, it was something that he felt made him not worthy of being with Tony, and that just because he couldn't have children, Tony wouldn't want him. 

He doesn't know how true that was, because even if Tony  _ had  _ wanted children, and it was something they had brought up together once or twice, Tony had ended their relationship either way.

Steve thought that even though he had the serum, something like this wouldn't have been able to happen. Just because he had the serum, it didn't mean that his little problem of not being able to have children would suddenly be fixed.

He finds it extremely ironic now, that Tony is the one at his side while he goes through labor with  _ their  _ child. The one that he thought if he had would make Tony stay with him longer. 

Steve doesn't even realize that Doctor Mikhailov is gone. It's only when he sees movement in the corner of his eye that he blinks away the haze of memories from his past and he sees Tony straightening up from where he was slouched against the wall in the far corner of the hospital room.

Tony walks over to his side and settles into the hard plastic chair besides the bed.

They don't talk, and Steve doesn't make any move to initiate conversations between them, but Tony places his hand in his and squeezes gently.

Steve doesn't say anything, but Tony taking his hand offers much more comfort than any words Tony could've said.

  
  


*****

The contractions are so painful that Steve feels as if he's going to pass out, either from dizziness and lightheadedness, or from nausea. 

Steve turns on his side, batting Tony's hand away from him as he does and tries to breathe. He's getting annoyed with Tony's constant hovering and the way Tony seems to follow him with his eyes.

He'd already done a circuit of the room in the hopes that gravity will do its job and make the baby make its way into position, but all that it had done was make him even more exhausted. So he'd settled in bed once more and tried to relax, which was easier in theory but not so much in reality, especially when he was battling contractions every couple of minutes.

The doctor had come in twice to see how he was doing; the first time he'd been five centimetres and the urge to walk around seemed appealing. It didn't last very long. The second time he was seven centimetres and she'd walked in while he was having a contraction.

She'd just handed him a paper cup filled with ice chips and told him to breathe. He didn't say anything, not wanting to come across as rude to the only doctor that was currently helping him, but he really wanted to tell her that  _ he was breathing  _ and that nothing was helping. Everything hurt so, so badly.

All he wanted to do was sleep for a week and forget about the mission and especially about  _ Tony  _ and the baby he was about to give birth to.

It might sound dramatic and seem like a really horrible thing to say, but Steve can't help but wish that he never slept with Tony. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this situation that he finds himself in.

He's miserable and in pain and really, really  _ exhausted.  _ And yet he keeps on having to bite back scathing remarks and from crying out in pain every time a contraction hits. The night, now steadily approaching morning, seems never-ending.

"Come on, Cap. Just breathe, okay?" Tony says, grabbing hold of his right hand and squeezing in a show of support.

Not even a couple of minutes ago Steve was batting Tony's hand away and wishing Tony would just go away, but now he didn't want Tony to leave, holding onto the hand that was held out to him in support. It's a small comfort that he indulges in, knowing that Tony would leave as soon as the baby's born and he'd be left alone to care for their child, but he also feels a tiny bit angry at himself for allowing Tony to see him this weak. For allowing himself to accept Tony's comfort only to have it taken away again.

But there's nothing he can do, and he doesn't say anything. Not if he wants to have his words cut short on a scream of pain.

Instead, Steve utters a, "Can't," through gritted teeth.

The contraction is fierce, and he blinks back tears from his vision and gives a sharp intake of air, pulling his hands away from Tony's and instead fisting the thin hospital sheets as the contraction worsens.

Steve's back aches along with the contractions, odd twinges going along his spine and he shifts again, trying to find a better position in the bed.

Tony's still at Steve's side, and he mumbles words of encouragement and tells him to breathe through each contraction.

The doctor finds them like this when she comes back twenty minutes later; Tony half-lying, half-sitting on the hospital bed beside Steve, and Steve positioned against the pillows, his head on Tony's chest. The position is comfortable, and Tony's heartbeat beneath his ears gives him something to take his mind off the painful contractions that are coming on top of each other.

She smiles sympathetically towards Steve and Tony doesn't even move, just makes himself more comfortable on the bed. The position isn't so good for  _ him,  _ but he doesn't particularly care, especially since Steve was going through even more pain trying to give birth to his baby.

"How bad are they?" The doctor asks.

Steve moves away from him, a pained frown on his face. His eyes are closed and he's biting his lip.

"Shit! T-Tony… it hurts," Steve whimpers, unable to answer the question properly as he cries out in pain. 

Tony grabs his hand but Steve pulls away, gripping the sheets instead.

"I'll break your hand," Steve says. It sounds like he doesn't want to pull away, but has no choice, and now Tony can't help but feel as if Steve  _ wouldn't  _ break his hand.

Even when in pain, Steve was extremely aware of his own strength and the fact that he was stronger than Tony.

The doctor rushes forward, then sits down on the chair in front of Steve's legs.

"Do you mind if I check?" she asks.

Steve shakes his head and Tony looks away, feeling uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave the room.

He wanted to be with Steve. After all, this was his child.

Steve winces as the doctor performs the exam again, even though he'd become accustomed to the feeling, it still hurt.

She pulled away, a smile on her face.

"Good news. You're now fully dilated, Steve, which means on the next contraction I want you to push when you're ready, okay?" she says.

Steve feels himself start to panic, not nearly ready enough to give birth to their child, but it seems like their child was as stubborn as its parents and would be arriving soon.

"Mr. Stark, will you be staying in that position or standing beside Steve? I need you to know that Steve needs to be as comfortable as possible to make this easier for him, so if you need to move now is your chance."

Tony nods, then moves so that he can shift out from under Steve and stands next to the bed.

He grabs Steve's hand, then pushes a couple of strands of hair out of Steve's eyes, hating that Steve was in so much pain and he could do nothing but stand there and watch.

The contraction eases off and he falls back against the pillows that Tony had repositioned behind his head and huffs out a breath.

"This hurts worse than getting shot," he says and Tony chuckles. "I know, just relax. You're doing well," Tony says, encouraging.

"I have to agree with Mr. Stark, Steve. You  _ are  _ doing well," the doctor says. 

Steve shakes his head, disbelieving. "It doesn't  _ feel  _ like I'm doing well."

The resting period is over too soon, and when the next contraction comes he feels a mixture of dread and fear surge through him. The pressure that he felt earlier when his water broke all those hours ago in his apartment is nothing compared to the one he feels right now; this time instead of being focused on his pelvic area it's between his legs.

The doctor pats his thigh encouragingly, and he doesn't try to fight his body. 

Steve gives an experimental push and he  _ feels  _ the baby drop lower into his pelvis. "Shit!" Steve cries out.

"Don't fight it, Steve. I need you to push as long as you can, okay?" The doctor says.

He nods and groans through the contraction, bearing down and grunting from the strain.

Steve brings his chin to his chest and pushes, feeling as the baby makes its way further down.

"Good, Steve. You're almost there. I can see some hair."

Besides him, Tony is muttering wordless encouragement in his ear, a hand rubbing his shoulder.

Steve pushes again, unable to fight against his body's urges and whines through gritted teeth when his lower half starts burning.

"Tony! It - Ah!" Steve screams, his hand fumbling blindly for Tony's.

Tony takes it, wincing slightly when Steve squeezes it hard. Steve must realize that he's hurting Tony because he groans, releasing his grip on Tony's hand.

He pants heavily when the contraction comes to an end and he closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"Steve, when the next contraction comes, I need you to try and push and hold it for the full ten seconds, okay? The head was nearly there," the doctor instructs.

He opens his eyes, nodding along. "Okay," Steve says, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him.

When the next contraction comes, he is by no means ready for it, but he tries to do as the doctor instructed.

Steve bears down with a grunt, feeling a burning sensation and it's unlike anything he's ever felt before. The pain is intolerable, and he screams, trying to push and hold it as the doctor said.

"Come on, Cap. Breathe," Tony instructs, leaning forward to brush the strands of hair out of Steve's face.

Steve feels hot tears prick at his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall and blinks rapidly.

"It  _ hurts _ , Tony," he grits out.

The sigh that Tony lets out is sympathetic. "I know, Steve. Just focus on your breathing and push."

Steve ignores him, focusing on the task at hand and pushes again, frustration building when nothing happens.

"Nothing's happening!" He cries out, back arching in pain and he throws his head back against the pillows.

"No, no, carry on, Steve. I can see them. Just keep on pushing," the doctor says from between his legs.

Steve pushes, whining when he feels himself start to stretch even further. 

"Come on, Steve! I see the head! You're nearly there. Hold it, okay?" Doctor Mikhailov says.

He doesn't reply, trying to push and hold as long as he can.

The baby inches forward little by little and he can feel the burning increase. He breathes through it, eyes closed in concentration.

Steve screams again as his belly contracts, pushing as hard as he can and tries to follow the doctor's orders. The baby's head continues to inch it's way forward, and he feels himself stretch even further. He can hear the doctor's words of encouragement and Tony's muttered praises in his ear, and he focuses all of his energy on pushing.

Despite his efforts, he feels himself start to tire, and against his wishes, his body eases off, and the baby's head slips back slightly, much to his frustration.

"Fuck, I can't. This is - Ah!"

His body is drained and he's exhausted from the long, long labor. He's in a ton of pain and so far the end was nowhere in sight. He tried to push again, but his body rebels, fighting him. He throws his head back, squirming as he tries to fight the pain between his legs.

Tears of frustration and pain collect in his eyes and they make their way down his face, blurring his vision.

He just wants the pain to end. Was that too much to ask?

"T - Tony, I can't. I can't. It hurts too much," he cries.

Tony reaches out and wipes a stray tear away.

"Yes, you can. You can do it, okay? You're doing good. You got this, Steve," Tony assures, looking him in the eye.

Steve blinks away the blurriness in his vision and swallows against the lump of pain and frustration stuck in his throat. He nods his head and sucks in a deep breath before pushing again. 

His eyes widen when he feels the baby move again, this time a lot quicker than before.

"Oh god, I can -" he whimpers, bearing down again.

He hears Tony's words of encouragement and feels his hand on his shoulder and focuses on his task.

"You can feel it, huh? Baby's head is nearly out. I need you to push as hard as you can."

He listens to the doctor this time, tamping down on the fatigue that's creeping in around the edges and concentrates on bringing his baby into the world.

The only way to end this never-ending cycle of pain was to carry on pushing, after all.

The contraction eases off after what feels like an eternity, and he's given a small amount of time to catch his breath.

The doctor asks him if he wants to feel and his curiosity wins out; when his hand comes into contact with a hard mass that he knows is his baby, he can't help but feel himself start to tear up.

He was actually having a baby. A baby that he never thought he could have.

Even though it hurt, and he went through a ton of pain - from his terrible break-up with Tony to going through painful labor - just to get here, it was worth it if it meant he got to have this.

Feeling the child he was birthing is enough to spur him on, giving him enough determination not to give up.

When the contraction comes and his window to rest and catch his breath is over, he is more than ready, wasting no time in taking a breath and pushing.

Steve groans and leans forward, pushing as hard as he can. He knows his face is probably red from the strain and he can't help but cry out in pain each time he feels a contraction, but he refuses to give up. 

"Push gently, okay? When I tell you to stop, I need you to stop, or else you'll tear," the doctor orders.

Steve nods, pushing gently. When the doctor tells him to stop, he whines, turning to face Tony, and tries to ease off. It's harder than it seems and he can't help pushing even more.

Tony grips his hand, forgetting his strong grip and tells him to breathe and to slow down.

From Tony's close position, he can smell the cologne that Tony's wearing. It's the same one that he got Tony for his birthday when they were dating.

The smell reminds him that as soon as this was over Tony would once again disappear and ignore him, pretending that nothing ever happened between them.

He shifts away from Tony and pulls his hand out of Tony's, fisting the sheets.

The doctor gives him the okay to push and he listens, pushing again.

"Good! Steve, the shoulders are nearly out!"

He ignores the doctor, grunting and straining as he bears down, tired of this whole ordeal and just wanting everything to be over with.

"You're doing so well, Steve. You're almost there. Keep pushing," Tony murmurs.

He lets out another pained scream and Tony reaches for his hand again.

This time he allows it, accepting the comfort and support that Tony was offering.

"Come on, Steve! Push!" Tony encourages, tone excited.

Steve screams through it, giving one final push and the baby slips from his body.

"Congratulations! It's a girl!" The doctor informs.

Steve slumps against the pillows, tears of happiness streaming down his face. Beside him, Tony seems to be faring no better; he's practically glowing with happiness and pride, his eyes glistening with tears.

But then Steve realizes that something was very, very wrong.

His baby wasn't crying.

He feels a cold pit of despair open inside of him and he grows desperate.

Tony seems to realize it as well.

"Why isn't she crying?" he hears himself ask, panicked. "Doctor, why isn't my baby crying? What's wrong with her?" he questions hysterically.

He sits up, reaching towards his baby girl who lay silent in the doctor's arms.

The doctor ignored him, rubbing her clean with a towel, then called for a nurse.

"Nurse! I need you to see to it that her airways are cleared," the doctor ordered the nurse from earlier, handing Steve's baby over to her.

He watched helplessly, fearful, as his baby was taken away to a place he couldn't follow.

He didn't even get to hold her yet.

"Doctor, where is my daughter going? What's wrong with her? Why isn't she breathing?" Tony demanded. He sounded just as panicked as Steve did, and Steve was grateful that Tony was just as afraid as he was. They were in the same boat.

The doctor turned to them, giving them a reassuring smile that, unfortunately for her, did nothing to dissuade their worries.

"Nothing is wrong with her, Steve, Mr. Stark. It happens from time to time. Sometimes babies don't cry right away, and we just check them out to make sure it's nothing serious. Your daughter is in capable hands," she tells them gently, looking each of them in the eye.

Her words reassure them slightly better than her smile did, but only so much. 

Steve would feel better if he could hear his baby crying, and if he was holding her in his arms.

He did  _ not  _ just give birth to her only for something bad to happen.

Steve winces, putting a hand to his belly as he feels a contraction. This time it's not as painful as before and the doctor guides him through passing the afterbirth.

And then it's all over.

The doctor cleans him up as best she can, stitching him up where he tore and then she tells him to relax. That he'll see his baby soon.

He watches as the doctor leaves the room, wishing he could go with her so that he could see his baby, but he was confined to this room. Even if he could walk and move around freely, his entire body was aching too much. And he was  _ exhausted  _ from the long, painful hours that he spent in labor.

Tony hasn't left his side once, and now that it's just the two of them again, Tony sits down heavily in the chair besides his hospital bed, giving a tired sigh.

Steve ignores Tony's obvious presence, eyes fixated on the ceiling as he focuses on breathing; in and out and in and out. There's a lump in his throat and he keeps replaying the scene of his baby not crying.

What if she wasn't alright? What if something was wrong and the doctors couldn't do anything to help her? What then?

He swallows, and blinks, trying not to let his emotions flood over.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asks. His voice sounds hoarse, tired. The question comes out awkward, but it also sounds concerned.

He can't find it in himself to answer, but he dredges up some energy and replies.

"Fine."

Silence.

Then, "You're not fine, Cap."

Again with the 'Cap' story. He just gave birth to Tony's child and Tony couldn't even be bothered to use his name. Were they going to pretend that all of this didn't happen, either?

"It's not your fault. You heard what the doctor said. These things happen," Tony carried on.

He stayed silent, but now the tears were falling and he couldn't keep back the sob that he was trying to keep in.

And as soon as it started, it was like he suddenly couldn't stop.

Steve's frame shook as he cried silent tears, and Tony couldn't find it in himself to stay confined to the uncomfortable plastic chair besides the bed when Steve was in so much pain and feeling such guilt.

"It is my fault," Steve muttered bitterly, stumbling over his words as heart-broken sobs escaped his mouth, "What if she - she's -"

"Shh," Tony hushed, standing up and wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders, holding him tightly in an embrace. "Don't say things like that."

Steve cried for some time, his tears soaking through the cotton of Tony's white shirt, and then he pulled away.

When Tony looked at him, his face was all red and swollen, and his blue eyes were dull and blood-shot.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, not meeting his gaze and fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket the nurse had sent in earlier.

"For what?" Tony asked. He was confused. Surely Steve didn't think he blamed him for their baby not being able to breathe properly?

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that I was - that I could - I swear I would've told you if I knew I was pregnant, Tony. And now… now it's my fault that she -"

"Steve," Tony cuts in.

Steve doesn't look at him.

"Steve," Tony says, voice stern.

Steve's head shoots up, a guilty look on his face.

"Don't be sorry, okay? Don't be. It's - it's. Well. I'm not going to say it's fine -"

A dark look crosses over Steve's face, and Tony watches as Steve's face falls. A number of other, indecipherable emotions pass over Steve's face so quickly that he can barely make them out.

"It's not fine," Tony repeats, "But it's also nothing to be sorry about. You told me that you couldn't fall pregnant, and I believe you. You seemed pretty shocked that you were pregnant earlier and I doubt anyone can fake not knowing something this big so well. The serum might've altered something, who knows? All that I know is that you shouldn't blame yourself, alright? I don't blame you for this, and neither should you," Tony said.

Steve looked at him, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears and he nodded. 

"Good. I'm glad we understand one another. Now, why don't you try and get some sleep, okay? You just gave birth, and you came back from a mission. I'm sure you must be exhausted."

Steve was, but he didn't want to tell Tony that.

Instead, Steve shook his head, denying the need for sleep. "No. I want to be awake when she comes back," Steve said. 

Tony sighed.

"You can't stay awake so long. Remember, Moira said they need to do a bunch of tests. These things take time and you need the rest. I'll wake you if they come back with her," Tony says.

Steve looks unsure, mind wavering between the idea of falling asleep and the idea of waiting to hold his baby girl in his arms.

But Tony's offer was too good to pass up.

He  _ was  _ tired.

"Promise that you'll wake me if she comes?" he asks, sounding unsure, his voice oddly small.

"Promise," Tony assures and Steve nods.

Steve leans back, eyes falling shut as he finally gives in to the long-awaited sleep.

Tony sits in the chair beside Steve's bed for half an hour, alternating between worrying about his new daughter and between the churning thoughts inside his head.

He's listening to the steady intake of Steve's breathing and the rise and fall of his chest, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on Steve's hand as he sleeps when the silence of the room is disturbed as the door to their room opens and the nurse returns. This time with a tiny bundle in her arms.

He shakes Steve awake and Steve's eyes shoot open, glancing around the room.

Tony notices exactly when Steve sees their daughter, because Steve's eyes widen, then he's reaching out his arms towards their child.

The nurse walks over, handing the baby over to Steve and helping him adjust his arms so both he and the baby are comfortable, and then she's stepping back, telling them that she'll give them a moment of privacy.

Neither of them pay her much attention and she leaves the room.

Steve lets loose a choked sob, eyes flooding with tears when he holds his daughter for the first time. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

She's quiet, but her tiny fingers clench and unclench into tiny fists every couple of minutes.

Steve's head shoots up to look at him, a soft smile on his face. "She's perfect," he says, voice filled with such awe, "She's got your dark hair and eyes."

Tony stands up and moves to stand closer to Steve so he can see his daughter properly. When he does, his eyes tear up.

"She is perfect," he whispers, and Steve looks up at him, then glances back down at the baby in his arms.

Steve holds her in his arms for a while, then he passes her over to Tony. Neither of them can stop looking at her. She really is perfect.

It seems like they didn't even get five minutes to themselves when the door to their room opens again, and both of them look up to see both the doctor and the nurse standing there.

The doctor tells them that their baby has trouble breathing and that she'd like to keep her overnight. Really, she shouldn't even have let them hold her without them being moved to another room where they could monitor her properly, but because Steve was so distraught and their baby seemed okay enough to be moved, she let them see her for a while.

Steve, predictably, doesn't take the news very well. Neither does Tony, but he's better at hiding his feelings and tries to keep a brave face for Steve.

It's not as if they won't get to take their daughter home for a long time, it was just overnight, and then they could take her home.

This time it's easier for Steve to fall asleep and Tony doesn't have to convince him to rest.

For Tony, however, it's difficult. His mind is racing.

He sits still for five minutes, simply watching Steve sleep and watching for any signs of distress. When there are none he decides to pull out his phone and skim through emails from work. That doesn't keep his mind from wandering and he taps his feet on the linoleum. It lasts for another five minutes before he gets up, glancing at Steve to check if he distrubed him before he's opening the door and slipping out to stand outside.

He walks a little ways down the hallway, close enough so he was close by if Steve needed him but also far enough so Steve wouldn't be able to overhear his conversation.

He pulls out his phone and presses dial, biting his lip as he listens to the dial tone and waiting for someone to pick up.

A click and then, "Tony? Do you know what the time is?" Pepper's sleepy voice can be heard over the line.

He winces slightly. He forgot that it was the middle of the night in California.

"Yeah, sorry, Pep. Anyway, I was thinking that I need to update my will. You know, in case I have any kids. Because I just realized that I didn't update it in some time and these things need to be put into consideration," he rambles.

Silence.

"Tony, did you phone me in the middle of the night just to talk about your will? Are you drunk?" Pepper asks, sounding annoyed. And then she gasps. "Are you  _ dying? _ I swear to God, Tony, if you are dying and this is your way of telling me -"

"No, no, no!" He rushes to say, "Pep, I'm not dying. Promise. I learnt from last time."

"Good. Because you should know that if you are dying I will find a way to bring you back to life so that I can kill you myself," Pepper stated.

"I know you will, Pepper-Pot. Now, about my will. I was thinking, we can hand the company over to them. Stark Industries needs an heir. Inform my lawyers, okay?" he said.

Pepper was silent, and he could practically see her squinting at him in confusion.

"Tony, are you - are you indirectly telling me that you have a child? You know, I don't know why I even bother anymore! If you're just going to go around and not bother putting a condom on, I don't see why I have to put up with all these accusations of you being the father of someone's child. You should be the one dealing with this yourself. I don't get paid nearly enough to deal with you. Who is it this time? Is it that reporter from that magazine?" Pepper questioned.

"Huh? What reporter? No! Pepper, I didn't even  _ sleep _ with her. And no, it's not like that, okay? Well, it kinda is like that, but it's not bad. Just - okay, I have a daughter," he blurted.

The silence was deafening.

"I'm sorry. Did I hear that right? Did I just hear you say you have a  _ daughter?  _ As in, a living, breathing child?" Pepper questioned.

"Yes, Pepper. That's the definition of human. We live and we breathe, isn't that wonderful? I have a daughter, you heard that right."

_ "Since when?"  _ Pepper shrieked.

He winced, pulling his phone away from his ear and letting Pepper have a couple of seconds to get it out of her system.

"Anthony Edward Stark, I swear to God - What? Honestly, Tony. When did you find this out?" Pepper asked, now fully awake.

"Uh, actually, as of an hour ago," he said.

"I'll get the NDA's ready. Just - try not to do anything else stupid before I sort this out. I can't believe you were stupid enough to -"

"Pep, Pepper, you don't need to do anything -"

"What? Why? Do you know how damaging this could be for your -"

"Pepper, the baby is mine and Steve's."

"What? As in  _ Captain America  _ Steve Rogers? That Steve?" she asks. 

He sighs. "Yes, Pep. Do we know of any other Steve?" He scrubs a hand over his face, feeling exhausted.

"Oh my god. This is - Wow. Is he okay? Are  _ you  _ okay?" she asked, sounding concerned.

He chuckled bitterly. "Wow, okay. I see how it is."

"Shut up, Tony. Are you - I mean, I can't imagine this was easy for him. You guys broke up. And he didn't tell you about the baby?" she asked.

He swallowed. "No, I - uh, he didn't know he was pregnant. As far as he knew, he couldn't get pregnant. The doctors always told him that."

Pepper made a sympathetic noise. "Okay. I'll place an order for some baby clothes and the basics. Oh, and a crib. I'll have it delivered to the penthouse. I'll see you soon. I'll try to get the earliest flight back but you know how it is," she said. 

"What? Pep, you don't need to fly over. I know how busy you are," he protested.

"Stop. You're my friend. I'll be over soon, okay?" she said. He could hear the sound of her tapping away at her laptop in the background and felt grateful for her help.

He was more than relieved that Pepper had decided to pick up the call, despite the late hour.

"Did you tell the team yet?" she asks and he groans, facepalming. He totally forgot to inform the team. Although, he did have an excuse for not telling them. He  _ did  _ just leave the room. Steve and their baby were more important right now.

"I'll take that as a no, then. Don't worry. Try to get some sleep. I'll tell them," Pepper said.

"Thank you, Pep. You're a star," he said.

Pepper laughed. "Thank me later, Tony. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he greeted. The line clicked and he turned his phone on silent.

When he stepped into the room, Steve was still asleep. This time, a slight frown was on his face and his hand was outstretched across the expanse of the bed, almost as if he were looking for something.

He can't help the fond smile that teases at his lips, and he gently moves his hand through Steve's hair, brushing the blond strands back. It's only as he's leaning down to press a kiss to Steve's forehead does he realize what he's doing and he freezes, then moves away. 

He settles into the chair and grabs Steve's hand, rubbing his thumb in little circles on the inside of Steve's palm.

In less than five minutes, he falls asleep, the day's activities finally catching up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally gave birth! These two are still pining after one another and they can't see it. Don't we just love two oblivious idiots?
> 
> I was originally going to break this chapter up because it seemed too long, but then I scrapped the idea.
> 
> Should I have Tony and Pepper talk in the next chapter? Or should I have him and Steve (attempt) to talk about what they should do going forward?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a few more tears are shed, there are emotionally stunted conversations, and Steve and Tony finally get to hold their daughter. Oh, and there might be a name.

The room is dark when Tony wakes up, and he's extremely glad for the blinds that block out the light of day. He's pretty sure that it's early morning, but with the lack of light, it's hard to distinguish exactly what time it is. 

He checks on Steve and finds that the blond is still sleeping peacefully. He moves quietly out of the plastic chair, wincing when his back and neck spasms slightly from the awkward position he'd slept in during the night. He really was getting too old to fall asleep just about anywhere.

He knows how exhausted Steve must be, especially after the grueling labor, then having to deal with the fact that their daughter wasn't breathing properly. It was enough to put stress on anyone else, and coupled with the fact that Tony _knows_ Steve didn't even have a chance to hit the sack after the mission and was in labor for most of the day, it's understandable that he'd be asleep for some time still.

He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him, and only checks the time on his phone when he's safely out of the room where the blue light of the screen can't disturb Steve's sleep.

It's seven in the morning.

The medical floor is just starting to wake up, a few staff members milling about. 

Tony takes the elevator and rides up to the penthouse, planning on taking a quick shower to refresh himself and then grabbing some coffee. Maybe a breakfast muffin if he felt like it.

The shower works wonders on his aching neck and back, not that he notices it. His thoughts are stuck on Steve and his daughter. _His daughter._ He has a child now. A living, breathing person that will depend on him.

He rushes through the motions of cleaning himself, then he towels himself dry and grabs any clothing from his closet that looks comfortable.

Tony dresses quickly, running a hand through his wet hair and winces when he realizes that his hair will dry in its natural curls, simply because he was too lazy to brush it out properly. Which, since he had forgone getting a haircut two weeks ago, was going to be even more of a nightmare. But he doesn't care about that; he's rushing to get back to the medical floor so that he can be there when Steve wakes up.

He's pretty sure that the super-soldier would wake soon, and he wanted to be there so that Steve wouldn't immediately think the worst; that he wasn't interested in their daughter or that he simply didn't care enough to stay. 

Either way, if he were in Steve's shoes he'd think the same thing. And who knows, maybe the blond already thought that.

The smell of strong coffee permeating the air is enough to lead him to the kitchen where FRIDAY had already started the machine for him.

It's as he's drinking from the cup and trying not to burn his tongue as he takes big gulps in his haste to get back down to the medical floor that he realizes that the brew was one that Steve introduced him to.

It was a Moroccan blend, one that Steve discovered while on a mission and had brought back home. They'd tried it and surprisingly, Tony liked it, and whenever the blend was coming to the last little bit, Tony had it imported. 

The taste brings back memories of evenings spent in the kitchen, back when they were dating and they would settle anywhere so long as the other was next to them or in the near vicinity.

He wants to hide the bag in the far corner of the kitchen cabinet, somewhere where he can't find it. 

He knows for a fact that that is where the blend _was_ hidden; he hadn't touched this particular blend in a while (since he and Steve broke up) and the last time he'd had it was precisely seven months ago, back when he and Steve were still dating and blissfully unaware of the near future. Tony still remembers the exact thing they were doing that night; they were settled on the sofa in front of the penthouse television with the lights turned down low, cuddling together and holding steaming mugs of coffee. He can't remember what movie was playing, just that it was some mindless series on Netflix that didn't require much effort to catch up on if a few scenes or episodes were missed, and that he and Steve were far more interested in the other than the actual show.

He can't help but think that that was where things had started to go wrong for them, that they had depended too much on each other. More importantly, it was the point in time where he realized that _he_ was too dependent on Steve, and that although he loved the blond and would do anything for him, the fact that Steve - _their relationship -_ had that much power over him was debilitating. It _terrified_ him.

So the fact that the blend had been brewed by FRIDAY, and was just sitting innocently on the countertop showed that someone - Tony has a feeling that one of the kitchen staff members had placed it out in the open for ease of access, since they pretty much knew his antics by now - had left it out.

The trip down memory lane only serves to remind Tony of the fact that while he's sipping coffee from the comfort of his penthouse, Steve is still very much stuck downstairs in medical.

The thought is enough to spur him on and he gulps down the last few mouthfuls of coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue, and he rushes to grab his cellphone and heads to the penthouse elevator.

When he reaches the medical floor, it's busier than it was earlier, but not overly so; there is more medical staff walking around, and he could see a few men and women dressed in business attire, which made him put them into the 'employee of Stark Industries' category, and not 'family who were visiting patients' category.

He nodded at the receptionist, and when she sent him a beaming smile and a nod in return he was off. He headed down the hallway leading to the maternity ward, passing a couple of rooms until he reached Steve's private room, and then he knocked, waiting a couple of seconds before sticking his head in.

When he saw Steve sitting up in bed, he smiled, entering the room and closed the door behind him.

Steve looked good, well, as good as someone who just gave birth could look. Apparently, he'd manage to take a shower, because Tony could see that the blond's hair was wet and he looked refreshed.

He still looked tired and there were circles under his eyes, making them look bruised. He supposed Steve would look tired for a while, he _did_ just go through a traumatic birth, one that he wasn't even aware he _could_ have.

Steve's pallor was pale, far too pale for his liking, really, but Tony didn't think anything was wrong with him. 

"Good morning. I wasn't sure if you would be up yet. How did you sleep?" he asked, gauging Steve's expression.

Steve sent him a smile. "Good morning, Tony," he greeted, "I slept well. And you? You aren't stiff from sleeping in that chair? I know it couldn't have been all too comfortable for you. You could've gone back to the penthouse to sleep, you know, I would've been fine."

Tony huffed, rolling his eyes. "Shhh! None of that, blondie. I _wanted_ to be here. I slept fine, so stop stressing. Has the doctor been yet?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "No, a nurse. Nurse… Hannah? Yeah, she was here. Although I think Doctor Mikhailov should be here soon."

Tony nodded. "Ah. Okay. And how are _you_ feeling? Tired? Sore?"

Steve nodded. "I'm exhausted. And..." the blond trailed off, a slight flush on his face.

Tony arched a brow. "And?" he pressed.

"I'm still sore. My _entire_ body is achy. I never thought it possible, but apparently, it is." Steve said.

Tony made a noise of sympathy. "That's normal, though. You'll be sore for a bit, but hopefully, the serum will kick in soon and you'll be back to normal in no time."

He'd done the reading, well, he got FRIDAY to read it out to him while in the shower, but it still counted as him doing research. Whatever Steve was feeling and going through was normal. All people who just gave birth felt this way, some had it worse than others. So yes, at least he could tell Steve this. That whatever he was going through was normal and was okay.

Although he had no doubt that Doctor Mikhailov would say the same thing whenever she popped in for a check-up, just using better terms.

Steve nodded, a tiny smile on his face. 

He watched as the blond bowed his head, playing with his fingers that were laid in his lap.

The silence stretched between them, and for a while, neither of them made any move to say anything or to ask any more awkward questions.

Tony frowned at how quiet Steve had gotten, sensing that something was wrong; Steve was too quiet, too still. He was slumped over, almost as if he were defeated, and he wouldn't look in Tony's direction, his head was tilted in the direction of the window overlooking the city.

He knew that something was bothering Steve, had a very good feeling that he knew what it was too, but receiving confirmation from the man would make him feel better.

That way he could work with what he had.

All he needed to do was approach with caution. If he pressed too much, Steve would shut down, get defensive, or he would simply just purse his lips and stay silent. If he tried to make light of the situation, say, by being too snarky or sarcastic or saying things in a joking manner, Steve might take things the wrong way and accuse him of being incapable of being mature enough to deal with being there. He would probably try to chase him away.

Which is something that Tony didn't want.

"Steve?" he called the blond, hoping that Steve would look him in the eye.

He thanks god or whoever decided to answer his prayers when Steve turns his head, glancing at him.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Talk to me. What's going on? I can tell something's bothering you."

It's because he's watching Steve that he sees the way Steve closes his eyes tightly and the way that Steve's entire face twists into a look of sadness.

When Steve's eyes open, he gives Tony a pained smile.

"Nothing's wrong, Tony."

"I call bullshit. Alright? Listen, I know that things aren't the best right now, that this is less than ideal and was totally something we didn't plan, but I'd like to think that after spending some time together -" he refused to say dating. That was part of the 'no territory' section in the talking department. "-that you aren't _fine._ Give me a little credit, here, Steve. Don't insult me, I can tell when something's wrong. And I'd like to help."

Okay, so this was out of his comfort zone, and he was doing that thing where he spoke too fast and rambled, but he'd like to think that he'd made his intentions - and his _point_ \- very clear. 

Whether he was uncomfortable or not, this wasn't something they'd planned for, and this was Steve.

And Steve, despite his words, was not okay. 

He was so _not fine,_ even Tony could pick up on it.

And yes, maybe it was because Steve had this bad habit of playing with his fingers whenever he was nervous or worried or anxious, and it had just been something that Tony had picked up during their relationship - and found rather adorable, really. Steve was usually so confident that seeing him do something like that was like witnessing a rare moment - but this was also _Steve._

And Tony's greatest weakness, other than his penchant for self-sabotage, was - _is -_ Steve.

He would do anything for Steve.

Steve's sad? Make him smile. Steve wants to see an art exhibition? Buy tickets and clear out an entire museum. Steve's angry? Make a joke to make him bring out that smile of his that says 'I'm mad at you so I shouldn't be laughing but I can't help myself'.

And yeah, sure, they ended things between him, but those things still stood; Tony would still do anything for Steve.

He searched Steve's face for any sign that there'd been a breakthrough, that somehow, _something_ he said had made it through to the blond.

And one second Steve's sitting there in the hospital bed that in all honesty should probably be a tight fit for his frame, but at the moment seems to make him smaller than he really is, more vulnerable, and the next he can see Steve's facade crack and his face crumble.

It's like a dam had suddenly broken and all of Steve's worry and sadness and pain was too strong and Tony's words had been his breaking point because Steve just… lets go.

"I should've known about her. I should've guessed that something was wrong, that my body changed. Who doesn't notice that, Tony? And now… God, I'm so, so sorry. All I can do is apologize, but sorry isn't going to fix anything, is it? It's not going to fix the fact that our - that our daughter isn't - I'm sorry. Tony, I'm so _sorry_. I -"

Steve's eyes were red and sad when he connected them with Tony's.

Tony moves further into the room, moving closer to the bed until he's less than a foot away. And then he decides 'fuck it' and sits on the edge closest to Steve.

He hates seeing Steve like this; Steve never cried, _ever._ Last night and today were the most he's ever seen Steve cry, and both times they were for things that were out of Steve's control, yet things that he held himself accountable for.

Yes, their daughter was being held back because she couldn't breathe properly. Was it Steve's fault? No. This was out of his hands.

So seeing Steve all broken up and a sobbing mess was something that made some part of him want to grab Steve into his arms and shield him from whatever was hurting him. He wanted to protect Steve.

Except, he couldn't exactly protect and shield Steve from his own head, could he? 

"Hey, hey, hey. Shh. Steve, look at me. Okay? Look at me. I want you to listen very carefully. It's okay. I don't blame you. And you shouldn't blame yourself either, alright? I want you to answer something for me," Tony said and Steve nodded quickly.

Tony reached forward and thumbed a rolling tear away, looking Steve in the eyes. He _knew_ that Steve blamed himself, and if there's something that Steve shouldn't be doing right now, it's blaming himself.

"If you knew that you were pregnant, if you had _any_ idea that you were pregnant, or if you suspected you were pregnant, would you _still_ go on that mission?" he asked. He knew what Steve's answer would be.

Judging from the look of horror on Steve's face, he was right, too.

"No! I - Tony, how could you even _think_ that? I would never - I wouldn't hurt our daughter. Ever," Steve sounded so sure, so horrified of the prospect of doing something to intentionally hurt their daughter, that Tony couldn't help but pull him a little closer.

And if he benefited from the close contact as well, if the familiar smell of Steve and the heat that radiated from Steve's body was a balm that soothed him like no other, he wasn't about to deny himself that little pleasure.

Steve allows Tony to comfort him, even leans into the touch like a man drowning. And he doesn't say anything about it, doesn't want Steve to pull away and pretend that he's fine when he so clearly is anything _but._

So he stays silent and lets Steve process things. Allows Steve to see that he really is staying. For good. Nothing, not even Steve's half-hearted attempts at pushing him away will make him stay away from his precious daughter and the bright future she holds the key to. 

And when Steve finally pulls away from him, not fully, but a mere couple of inches away just so that he could look him in the eye, Tony allows that, too.

Seeing Steve like this is strange, rare. But he knows that beyond Steve's confident persona and the way he holds himself, he's the type of person to hold his heart on his sleeve. He's shy and insecure. And this situation seemed to bring all of the qualities that Steve tried to hide out into the light.

"Do you really believe that? I still hurt our daughter, Tony. And she's here because I was reckless and I didn't even take care of her. A parent is supposed to look after their child, aren't they? And now she's here. Because of me. Because I didn't think and I went on that mission," Steve whispered, breaking away from the intense gaze he'd shared with Tony.

Steve's turned away from him, probably so that Tony couldn't see the inner turmoil that's shown so clearly on his face, but he's still too close to Tony for Tony _not_ to see his facial expressions properly. 

So he sees the way more tears spill from Steve's eyes and roll down his face before Steve wipes them away quickly.

His heart aches seeing Steve like this, especially when his efforts at reassuring Steve that this wasn't his fault was failing drastically.

He pulls Steve impossibly closer to him, squeezing the blond's shoulder in a show of support, rubbing gently.

Steve's pliant in his hold, and seems to accept the comfort he offers; he's slumped in a semblance of an exhausted heap, his head laying low over Tony's chest, listening to the thump-thump of Tony's heartbeat.

It's always been something that Steve's done whenever he was troubled or feeling overwhelmed and the sound of Tony's heartbeat beneath his ears was a way to calm him down from whatever state he was currently in.

Tony keeps on rubbing soothing circles on Steve's back, allowing him to calm down slowly and at his own pace.

When he deems Steve relatively calm and able to listen, he speaks.

"Steve, listen. It's okay. Yes, it sucks that our daughter is here -"

"I did that. I caused this," Steve interrupts.

Tony raises an eyebrow, and Steve quiets, settling down once more.

"Hush. Let me finish. As I was _saying,_ yes, it sucks that our daughter needs to stay an extra night when we get to go home, but you didn't know. You didn't know you could even fall pregnant, that this was possible. But soon she'll be able to come home. None of this was planned, and absolutely _none_ of this is your fault. Do you believe me now?"

Steve nods tentatively, biting on his bottom lip unsurely.

It's not the best answer, but it's a step up from having Steve cry. At least he's calm and has stopped saying things that weren't true. Things like 'this is my fault'. If Steve said that one more time… Well, Tony was really close to losing it himself, actually. Because how could Steve even blame himself for something like this? He didn't hurt their daughter. Sometimes babies are simply born and they can't breathe properly. It's normal.

Tony cracks a tiny grin, hugging Steve to him.

Surprisingly, Steve participates and wraps his arms around Tony's waist.

The position isn't one that's comfortable, for either of them, and since he's no longer young and can sit all tangled up and at awkward angles, and Steve was still healing, it wasn't really ideal, but Steve wasn't crying anymore, and he seemed much better.

There was also the little voice In the back of Tony's mind that reminded him that the position they were currently in was one they've been in multiple times; they used to cuddle a lot when they were dating, either in bed while one was reading or watching tv or on one of the many luxury sofas scattered about the penthouse floor.

Really, they were always together.

And sitting like this, touching skin to skin and being able to feel and share each other's body heat is the closest they've been since they've broken up beyond brief touches when handing over mission briefings or brushing up against each other in passing.

And… Tony missed it.

The whole touching thing. The close contact. He never realized how much he missed being warm. Or the fact that he was cold for so long that being warm was strange for him. Steve was warm. 

He cleared his throat.

Right.

They weren't together anymore. Mutual break-up and all.

And how could he even think of that? What horrible person thought of things like that? Steve was in pain. Steve needed him. And he wanted to comfort Steve. It was wrong to try and take advantage of the blond when he wasn't behaving like his usual self, when he was in this vulnerable state.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Do you want me to go check if I can find Doctor Mikhailov? I can ask her if you're allowed to see the baby," he said.

Steve's eyes widened slightly in realization, and then he nodded.

"Yes. Please. I'd like that."

He smiled, squeezing one of Steve's hands in his own, then extracted himself from Steve's grip, standing up.

"Great. I'll just pop out for a minute and then I'll be back soon, okay?" he told Steve.

Steve sent him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Don't worry about it."

  
  


***

Finding Doctor Mikhailov was surprisingly easy.

He'd barely walked five steps when he saw her walking down the hallway, apparently already on her way to Steve's room.

She sees him immediately, sending a nod in greeting. He waits for her, and then they walk back to Steve's room together, side by side.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. I take it you were visiting Steve? I hope you weren't riling my patient up again," she says, glancing at him for a couple of seconds and then turns away to greet a nurse that tells her good morning. Although this time, he can hear a teasing lilt to her voice, and not an accusatory one.

At least she wasn't scolding him. Which was a massive step up from last night, if he remembered correctly.

He grinned. "Okay, firstly, it's Tony. Not Mr. Stark. I know you don't care about the whole formality thing like everyone else does so why are you still calling me Mr. Stark? I didn't peg you as one of the sucking up to the boss type of people. And secondly, yes, I was visiting Cap. _No,_ I did not rile him up, thank you very much. We had a very civil conversation."

She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Okay, so she was a little like Pepper. Not amused by his jokes, or his charming attitude. He could work with that. Sort've.

"Alright, Tony. Thank you for not bothering my patient. He needs his rest, and with you added in the mix that's highly impossible. I doubt you had a… What was it that you called it? Oh, right. A civil conversation. Maybe a slightly stilted one, of course, but I'll take what I can get. So long as my patient is calm and he isn't in a state, I can tolerate your presence."

Tony gaped, then realized she was messing with him.

"You - What? You're not supposed to talk to the person who pays your salary like this! Blasphemy! I will not stand for it," he whined.

Her lips quirked up slightly and he resisted the urge to smile.

"I thought you said that you never 'pegged me as one of the people who sucked up to their boss' type people. I'm just proving your theory correct," she sniffed.

Tony laughed and she joined him not long after.

He never realized how good it was to laugh and let himself go after dealing with everything that happened last night. It felt like he'd been walking on eggshells the entire time, too afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Laughing was freeing, and he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

If this was how he was feeling, just after being a support system without even _doing_ anything to help, imagine how Steve was feeling after actually doing all the hard work.

The thought was sobering and he stopped laughing. Doctor Mikhailov must've sensed the shift in his mood because she looked at him in concern.

She didn't ask him what was wrong, or _if_ something was wrong, but he felt as if he needed to tell her what was going on.

Tony wasn't one for explaining his feelings, or even accepting the fact that he _had_ and experienced feelings like a normal human being. For him, it was easier if he suppressed them and ignored their existence. It was mainly due to past experiences - ones he wasn't prepared to delve into - but something about the way Doctor Mikhailov looked at him, as if he wasn't 'Mr. Anthony Edward Stark: CEO of Fortune 500 company, Stark Industries' but rather plain, old Tony Stark. Just a guy who messed around with cars in his free time and preferred talking to his 'bots than to people. A regular guy with problems like everyone else.

So he told her everything.

" - and that's why I'm out here. I was about to look for you to ask if Steve would be allowed to see the baby. He's, well, he's doing a lot better than last night, but then again, he kinda did push out a fully formed human without even knowing of its existence in the first place, so there's that. So? What do you say, Doc? Is it okay for Steve to visit the baby?" he asked. He was rambling, but this was…

He had no idea what this was.

Past experiences hadn't prepared him for something like this to happen. And yet, he was fully prepared to be there one hundred percent for his baby. And he was more than ready to help Steve with whatever he needs or might need.

He had to be, seeing as he had contributed to the problem. Not that it was a problem, more of an… unplanned adventure that started last night and will last for the next eighteen years.

Doctor Mikhailov hums thoughtfully, then turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"And how are you doing? Sure, Captain Rogers, sorry, _Steve,_ isn't completely better. In both mental and physical aspects, but I have yet to hear how you yourself are coping. I understand that this is new territory and it can be difficult to navigate, so how are you feeling?" she asks.

Her voice is gentle, and the question wasn't interrogatory or probing, but sounded rather curious. And she sounded genuinely concerned.

Which was something that he didn't need.

Steve was the one who suffered. 

And who will only continue to suffer, seeing as they weren't together anymore and now had to parent a daughter that they had together.

So he shakes his head and huffs out a laugh.

"I'm great, doc. Although, something tells me the only thing that won't be great is my sleep schedule for the next couple of years. Good thing I don't sleep much. Means I don't miss out on much sleep. Huh, everyone always told me I needed to sleep more. They never wanted to believe me when I said I don't need it. Guess I was right," he murmurs the last part to himself, almost thoughtfully.

Doctor Mikhailov gives a disbelieving laugh.

"You're crazy, you know that? But something tells me you're used to people telling you that. As for Steve, I was just about to head to his room. I'm sure it would be alright for him to visit the baby. I'm sure he'd feel better when he gets to hold her. Well, longer than he did last night. I'd like to do a quick check-up to see if everything's healing up as it should be, but hopefully, Steve will be discharged tomorrow."

Tony grinned. "I'm sure Cap will be pleased when he hears the news."

Doctor Mikhailov gave him a look of sympathy and they carried on walking in silence.

  
  


***

Steve, as predicted, is relieved at the good news.

And for Tony, just seeing Steve genuinely happy at the news that he gets to visit his daughter and to hold her is enough to make him smile.

Doctor Mikhailov allows Steve to visit their daughter on the condition that he uses a wheelchair. She performed the routine checkup - Tony had left the room to give them privacy - and had stated that the serum wasn't healing at its usual rate. Which wasn't something she was too worried about, seeing as Steve's body had gone through the process of housing a baby he wasn't aware of and had had to work twice as hard seeing as Steve hadn't exactly done everything he would need to if he had known he was pregnant. And then there was the actual birth. On top of tearing slightly, Steve had also lost a lot of blood, which explains his pallor and how he still seemed so exhausted.

But Steve doesn't let the doctor's orders slow him down. Usually, he'd protest against something like that, saying that he was fine and that he could walk and that they should save the wheelchair for someone who really needed it. And for Tony, witnessing Steve give in so easily, it's a testimony for how much Steve must still be in pain.

The doctor had also left strict instructions for Tony to help Steve. When she'd done that Steve had looked unhappy, but didn't protest too much.

And really, it's not like he needed the doctor to tell him that he needed to help Steve.

He wanted to help Steve anyway.

He'd had his part in the whole ordeal, so he shouldn't leave Steve to fend for himself.

And if it meant that he had to get cans of pain-relieving spray or ice packs or even some of the pills he and Bruce had worked on to help when the pain Steve was in was too much for him to handle, then he would do it.

And this was only for while he was staying on the medical floor. When Steve finally left - and their baby was with them - there would be late-night diaper changes and feeding times as well. 

Steve wouldn't do this alone.

Tony had promised himself that he would be the best father he could possibly be to his daughter. And yes, she was unplanned, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be loved or cared for. In fact, he loved her the moment he first laid eyes on her.

So he helps Steve into the wheelchair.

It takes slightly longer than it usually would to get them moving, especially with Steve moving slower because of the pain he was in.

Tony doesn't rush him and waits until Steve's lowered himself gingerly into the chair.

"You alright? Comfy?" he asks.

Steve nods, a pained wince on his face. "Yeah, I'm good."

He stares for a couple of seconds, and then decides against saying anything. 

Tony thought that he had a hard time watching Steve. Just… in general. It was a problem for him right after they'd broken up. Half the time he found himself staring at Steve whenever the blond wasn't looking at him and then he'd catch himself, internally having to remind himself that he and Steve weren't together anymore and that Steve didn't belong to him. It got easier over time, after he started to spend more time at the company and attend more meetings that required him to fly to another country.

He didn't realize that his resolve was so weak when Steve was involved.

But now, seeing Steve hold their daughter was, well, the sight was breathtaking, for lack of better words.

Steve _glowed._

And really, Tony was dumbstruck. Steve looked so happy and content. It was almost as if Steve was meant to have this.

Sure, Steve looked downright nervous and Tony could just about make out the telltale signs of Steve's guilt when the young nurse - Nurse Hannah, Tony remembered her name - handed their tiny baby to Steve to hold.

He suspects the sight of various wires that are connected to their daughter only added to Steve's nerves, but then their daughter is being placed into his waiting arms, and Steve just… calms down.

And Tony can't help the curiosity that takes over; he walks over and stands beside the chair that Steve's sitting in. 

The wheelchair was lying abandoned near the doorway, waiting for when Steve had to return to his room.

The nurse adjusts Steve's grip on the baby, and then leaves with a smile, moving further into the room to give them a semblance of privacy.

Neither of them has anything to say, both enthralled at the sight of their daughter. 

"She's so tiny," Steve whispers, voice full of awe as he trails a gentle finger across her cheek. She leans into the touch and Tony sees the way Steve's eyes light up.

Then Steve's looking at Tony, and Tony can't contain the smile that threatens to emerge.

He puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and leans down to look at her properly. "She's ours," he says, and Steve nods. "Yeah, she is."

As far as the baby's resemblance to her parents, she seems to have inherited the Stark genes; she's got a dark head full of hair - which Tony knows from the research he's done that it will start to fall out and thin before growing back in again - and brown eyes.

However, she inherited Steve's pouty lips. Which is something that will make it all the more harder for Tony to say no to in the future whenever she asks for something.

All too soon the peace is disrupted when their daughter whimpers in Steve's hold. 

Steve tries to shush her, rocking her gently but it doesn't work and her whimpers get louder. 

He can tell that Steve's panicking, and he's ready to try to get her to stop but then the nurse is at Steve's side and instructing him to open his gown enough to expose his chest. The nurse hands Steve the baby once more and helps him adjust his hold so that the baby is placed over him.

"Sometimes, they just want to be close to you. Skin-to-skin contact is good for both you and the baby. It helps strengthen the bond between the two of you," she explains.

Steve nods his head, but he only has eyes for the baby in his arms.

She's stopped whimpering now, and Steve huffs out a slight laugh when she lets out a sigh of content, a tiny yawn escaping her equally tiny mouth.

The sight of the wires that are connected to his daughter makes Steve even more scared to hold her closer than before, but holding her in his arms, against his skin is soothing. It feels natural, familiar.

The nurse hovers in the background, and when Steve looks up he can see her watching with a smile on her face.

He's quick to look down again, not wanting to miss anything now that his daughter is in his arms.

Tony is more than happy to stand and watch Steve and his daughter. There's a warm, unfamiliar feeling spreading throughout his body, but he's not worried about it. Instead, he basks in the feeling.

The nurse steps forward once more, an amused smile playing on her lips when she notices the baby seeking out something with her eyes tightly shut, mouth opening and closing quickly.

"Other times, they might be looking for food. Do you want to try feeding her?" she asks Steve.

Steve looks up, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

"Yes. I'll try feeding her," Steve says.

Apparently, it's right on time because their daughter lets out a loud whimper, clenching and unclenching her tiny fingers. Her face screws up and Tony can pinpoint the exact moment that Steve begins to panic.

The nurse snaps to action, showing Steve how to move so that she doesn't choke or swallow down air.

Getting her to latch is surprisingly easy, from the way Tony sees the nurse watch on in pride, she seems to think that Steve has the situation handled.

Nurse Hannah leaves them to it, giving Tony a respectful nod and goes back to doing whatever it was that she was doing before.

Tony's eyes trail back to his daughter, watching the way Steve handles her with the ease and gentleness of an experienced parent.

It's strange, and yet, he feels as though Steve were made to do this. And the thought strikes a chord deep inside of his consciousness because Steve was told that he could never have this, that he was unable to ever experience something so precious.

"There you go. I guess you were just hungry, huh?" Steve murmurs and smiles down at his daughter.

For a couple of seconds, it's quiet as she stops suckling, gazing at Steve with wide, brown eyes.

"She knows your voice, Cap," Tony speaks up and Steve's head shoots up and he gives Tony an unsure smile.

"You think so? I didn't exactly talk to her."

Tony doesn't answer straight away, grabbing a plastic chair that he spied earlier when he entered the room and places it beside the one that Steve's sitting on. He sits down and leans closer so that he can rub a finger gently across the baby's cheek.

"Of course she knows your voice. You might not have spoken directly to her, but she heard your voice. You carried her for nine - sorry, _seven -_ months, so she got used to hearing your voice."

Steve hummed thoughtfully, eyes trained on their daughter as she fed.

Soon she was done, and then the nurse returned, showing Steve how to burp her.

After, when the nurse had declared her work done and deemed Steve and Tony capable of watching their daughter, Steve turned to him.

"Do you want to hold her? I just realized you never - She's your daughter, too. You should hold her," Steve stumbled over the words.

Tony felt a surge of panic take hold of him, but he managed to suppress it enough to urge Steve to hand her over.

As soon as she was in his arms, it was like all the breath was knocked out of him. He was too afraid to breathe too loud or to hold her too close in case he accidentally hurt her.

She was so tiny.

He couldn't believe that he had a hand in creating something so pure and innocent as her.

He watched as she blinked slowly at him, each blink getting heavier and heavier and he knew then that he'd do anything for her.

All too soon, their time with their daughter is over and they have to leave. For Tony, it's a bitter-sweet moment and a part of him wants to resist when the nurse takes her from his arms. But then he sees the way Steve watches as Nurse Hannah puts their daughter - their so very tiny daughter - in the too-big incubator and he feels a deep pang of sorrow for the soldier.

Because in a perfect world, Steve would be getting to take their daughter home with them instead of watching her being put in the incubator for the night.

Sure, they get to take her home in two days' time, but it still doesn't sit right.

Steve doesn't watch for long, and as he watches Steve, Tony can see the way the blond bites his lip and turns away before walking to the wheelchair and sitting down.

Tony gives their sleeping daughter one last look and then walks over to Steve, standing behind the chair.

"We'll get to take her home soon," Tony says softly.

Steve gives a jerky nod of his head. "Yeah, I - It's just -," Steve gives up, voice thick with emotion, and Tony doesn't comment on it, instead giving him a small smile and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"I know."

The trip back to Steve's room is filled with meaningless talk, but it comforts both of them and takes their mind off of their daughter.

When they do finally get to the room, it's like a wave of exhaustion settles over Steve, and he struggles to fight back a yawn, but to no avail, one slips out.

He settles in the bed, allowing Tony to help him get comfortable. No matter what position he's in, it's difficult for him to settle in properly and when he shifts, he can't help wincing when he moves too fast, feeling the tenderness in his lower half that hasn't disappeared yet.

He catches the worried look that Tony directs to him and he's quick to wave away Tony's concerned questions, assuring the brunet that he's okay.

"I'm fine, Tony. Just a little sore."

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes.

He's still standing awkwardly in the room, and Steve motions towards the chair that Tony's occupied from the beginning of Steve's stay on the medical floor.

Tony sighs but pulls the chair closer to the edge of Steve's bed, then sits, scooting forward until he can lean his elbows onto the bed.

"You know, for someone who's spent this long in the modern world, you're still terrible at lying," Tony tells him. It comes out incredibly blunt, but his words are softened by the hand that Tony places on Steve's arm.

Steve turns to face him, carefully this time so as not to bring forth another feeling of discomfort, and mock-glares at Tony.

"You're so annoying, you know that?"

Tony laughs. "Yeah, but you're stuck with me. I promised the good doctor that I'll be here if you need me, remember?"

Steve's features soften, and he smiles at Tony from beneath his lashes, a look of slight embarrassment on his face.

There's a moment of silence between them, and Tony debates on whether or not to tentatively approach the topic of Steve and their daughter staying with him in the penthouse, or to simply come out and say it.

Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the end, it's a mixture of both the former and the latter.

"Hey, Steve?"

Steve focuses his bright blue gaze on Tony.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"So, I phoned Pepper last night and she had some people drop off a couple of baby supplies at the penthouse. Knowing Pepper, she probably had them assemble the crib and everything else that had to be built. She also might've had a few people clear out one of the spare rooms and turn it into a nursery. I know we didn't talk about it, but you know Pepper, she has good intentions. So, what do you say? Move in with me? Well, I mean, there's the guest bedroom, so not really in with me _in with me_ , but still."

He watched Steve's face carefully as he spoke, noting the way the blond furrowed his eyebrows as he got closer and closer to blurting out 'move in with me?' and the way a deep frown started to form.

"Tony…" When Steve said his name it sounded like an exhausted sigh.

Tony couldn't fault him for it, though. The thing was, they hadn't even spoken about living arrangements. Yes, he had promised Steve that he would be there for their daughter. He can't imagine being one of those parents that ignore the mere existence of their children. And if he's being honest with himself, he can't imagine being the type of parent that Howard was to him. 

Truth be told, he never really thought past that, which, in hindsight, was an issue on his behalf. Really, he was just so surprised and caught in the moment when Steve was in the throes of labor that when everything was finally over, he was still reeling from it. And then after, when he called Pepper, the whole thing with the living arrangements hadn't even been on his mind.

And now that he's blurted everything out to Steve, it really doesn't seem that bad. It might be awkward - they weren't together anymore, after all - but for the sake of their daughter and the fact that it simply wasn't practical to pack a bag for her at the end of every week and dump her on the other's floor when their week with her was over, it was easier for them to live together. It made him uncomfortable and brought back memories of when he was a child and when Howard had him shipped to boarding school. Granted, the situations weren't the same, but the feeling of living out of a suitcase and the feeling of not being wanted was something that made him pause and think that a situation like his past one could be prevented.

He didn't want his daughter to feel like she wasn't wanted or that she was different simply because she had two parents who weren't together. And yeah, he knows that kids go through it all the time when their parents get divorced - or when they break up.

But it wasn't something he wanted for _his_ child.

And he tells Steve that.

"Okay, I know this isn't exactly what you want, but it's better than the alternative, which would be us packing a bag for our daughter at the end of each week so that that other gets to keep her when it's their chance. And there's also the fact that Pepper already had people see things up in the penthouse. Do you want to move everything to your floor? Because then we need to order duplicates of everything so when she stays with either of us she's comfortable. And if it's not that what's bothering you and simply the fact that staying at the penthouse with me is what makes you _uncomfortable_ , think of it as being roommates. I won't bother you, and I'll stick to my half of the penthouse. You won't even know I'm there. You won't see or hear anything from me. Promise," Tony said.

He made the action of crossing his heart and Steve rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly in a semblance of a smile. Albeit, one that Steve tried hard to resist doing.

And then Steve sighed.

"Tony, it's not that. I - nevermind. You're right."

Steve didn't sound too happy about it, but his tone wasn't angry or bitter, so Tony counted it as Steve being in agreement. Really, Steve never gave up so easily, so if he was doing it now, it must mean that he agreed with Tony's logic.

Tony leans back in the hard plastic chair that he now thinks of as his own and spares a quick glance at the time on his phone, noticing that it was already one in the afternoon. 

Was he there so long already? It didn't even feel like half an hour since he'd joined Steve again, and yet it was already six hours later.

When he realizes that Steve's watching him with a mixture of wariness and exhaustion clear on his face, he packs his phone away.

He didn't want Steve to think that he was counting down the hours until he could leave. He promised he would stay, and he was a man of his word, despite what a couple of people who didn't know him all that well would say. Namely, the media.

Tony flashes Steve one of his best smiles, hoping to reassure the blond and help him relax, and it works. Steve loosens up and sinks back into the pillows that Tony had insisted on fluffing up for him, and struggles to hold back a yawn.

Seeing this, Tony frowns slightly.

"You should sleep. Take a nap."

Steve shakes his head, stubborn.

"I can't. I'm not tired," he argues. As far as arguments with Steve go, it's a weak one, and Tony knows it, which is why he raises an eyebrow.

"That yawn that I just saw says differently. Try."

"Shut up. I won't be able to sleep," Steve says, sounding slightly put out, and Tony gets what the blond _isn't_ saying.

Tony moves forward until he's leaning halfway out of his seat, then moves to tuck the blankets around Steve properly.

"I'll be here the entire time. I'll be awake if anything changes, promise. Sleep, Steve," Tony says. He brushes a couple of stray strands of hair out of Steve's face and smiles at him.

Steve gives him a grateful smile in return.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep either? I know you couldn't have slept enough last night," Steve asks, sounding concerned.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I'm good. Stop worrying about me and get some sleep."

Steve relaxes against the pillows, getting comfy. When he replies, his voice is soft, sleepy, and his eyes flutter slightly. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony gives him a fond smile. "No need to thank me, Steve. Sleep tight, buttercup."

Tony brushes his fingers through Steve's hair until the blond's eyes fall shut.

Now all that he needed to tell Steve was his idea for names for their daughter.

He hoped Steve liked the name Morgan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Okay, so because it's my birthday today, I've decided to post it as a sort've gift. I originally planned to post it when I was halfway through writing chapter 6, but a few people asked when I would be updating and I just couldn't resist. I know, I know, everyone already knows that their daughter's name is Morgan, but these two obviously don't. At least, Steve doesn't. Also, I apologize for any remaining mistakes that I might've missed. The next chapter will be shorter, but only so that I can focus on chapter 7, which will be longer. We will be seeing a nursery soon, and the team will get to meet the newest member. Eventually.
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos! Tell me what you guys think, I love feedback!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Big Move™ occurs, Steve angsts a bit more and Tony tries his best. One point to each of them for progress. Of course, this doesn't mean that Steve and Tony have a proper conversation, but then again, when is anything ever easy with these two?

Nostalgia isn't exactly the correct word to describe the way Steve feels when he sets foot in the penthouse. It isn't accurate. But it was a similar way to describe what he's feeling; a wash of memories - both fond and not - settles over him like a heavy cloud, and he has to swallow several times to dislodge the combined feelings of discomfort and familiarity and sorrow that gathers at the back of his throat.

Tony is talking too fast for Steve to catch up - something about water - and he wishes not for the first time that he is back on his own floor. He's exhausted, and being back in the penthouse is making his already horrible mood even worse.

He's not dodging the situation at hand, of course, he isn't, it's simply that ever since he left the med floor, it's as if there's something missing. And no matter how many times he checks, it's not going to appear. Steve knows that what he's feeling is normal, that it's natural to feel this way when he's separated from his baby, the doctor told him so, but to actually  _ feel  _ it was different from being told about it.

He physically  _ aches. _

Tony leads him to the kitchen and he tries not to touch anything, noting that Tony probably had the cleaning staff over. He can tell that the penthouse was too clean; it looked as if there was no one living in it. No belongings lying around, no tell-tale signs of life. And it disarmed him, made him feel as if he was an outsider looking in, even though he knew the penthouse like the back of his hand. Because once upon a time, the penthouse was his home. 

"Steve? Are you listening? Would you like anything to drink? I have some juice, water? Oh! And there's some coffee if you don't feel like having water or juice," Tony gestures towards the coffee machine and Steve shakes his head, declining Tony's offer of beverages.

"No, thank you. I can't drink coffee. If you don't mind, I'm going to go lie down." Steve phrases it like a question, and Tony nods agreeably, almost as if the idea had occurred to him at the same time that he said it.

"Yeah! No, it's cool. I don't mind. Let me show you to the guest room," Tony says, sounding absent-minded as he guides Steve through the penthouse.

Steve follows and doesn't say anything about how he already knows where the guest room is. For as long as he can remember, the guest room had remained empty while they were dating. It was void of any and all furniture and belongings, and when Tony found out that he liked to paint, Tony had made plans to turn it into an art studio for him. Those plans had never had a chance to come to fruition, as they'd broken up not too long after. 

For him, it's a painful reminder that that's the point in time when things started to go wrong for them; they'd both been too involved with other things that when they were together they didn't know how to  _ be  _ together. Sure, they spent time together. They cuddled on the couch, watched meaningless series' on Netflix, and on occasion made out like teenagers, but they also brought out the worst in each other during those times. A simple conversation could spur on shouting matches that lasted longer and longer as the weeks went on. But no matter how angry and hurt he felt whenever he was reminded of their fights, Steve's always reminded of the good times that went hand in hand with the bad times. It outweighed all the terrible things that they said to one another in an attempt to hurt each other.

Steve stays silent as Tony walks them down the hallway that passes the master bedroom, then leads them down another hallway that belongs to the guest room.

"-I know how you want space, so this guest room was made up for your stay." His stay. As if staying in Tony's penthouse was a luxury getaway and not them inhabiting the same space to co-parent their daughter. 

"-and then the nursery is in right next to the guest room. Easier to get to and I think that Pepper might've thought that you'd want to be closer to her. Also, that way we can take turns to see to her in the middle of the night. The nursery is close to both of our rooms. So, you know..." Tony trailed off awkwardly, hand coming up to rest at the base of his neck.

He couldn't disagree with that logic, so he nods. "Yeah. It will be easier to get to her in the night," Steve says and immediately recognizes the look of relief that makes its way across Tony's face.

"Great! I haven't had a chance to check out the nursery yet, do you want to? Check it out, I mean. You can say no. I know that you're tired and the nursery will be here tomorrow, and the day after so you-"

Steve cut him off. "I'd like to see the nursery. I'm sure Pepper did a great job with it," he says. Tony's face flits through a myriad of emotions too fast for him to identify, and then he realizes that he's too tired to even try to distinguish what they are. At best, Tony was a mess of suppressed emotions. At worst, well, Tony was complicated to understand.

Tony doesn't grace him with a response, and for that, he's overwhelmingly glad; being in the space he shared with Tony was dizzying. And Steve was man enough to know what he was and wasn't capable of handling. Which meant that he understood that he wasn't in the best of headspaces - he wanted to reach out for his daughter but then he would withdraw whenever he realized that she was still down on the med floor - and that Tony's presence and being back in the space that he had last been in a couple of months ago wasn't the best of combinations. 

His SHIELD-assigned therapist would be proud of him for recognizing what he could handle and what he couldn't. Sam would be unhappy that he ignored those feelings and still soldiered through. But neither his SHIELD therapist nor Sam was with him, so they had absolutely no say.

Tony nods, mouth shutting closed, almost as if he was about to say something but thought better of it, and then he turns on his heel and walks to the nursery.

Steve simply follows.

When Tony stops outside of the door, Steve has a brief moment where he can feel his stomach twist into knots, whether they're from nervousness or something else he can't tell.

The door is like any other door in the penthouse, painted white to match with the steel-glass-marble aesthetic thing Tony has going. He supposes that Pepper also had a hand in the decoration of the penthouse. It's not a new thought, rather something he's always thought of ever since he'd first seen the interior of the penthouse. 

For someone with Tony's exuberance and bigger than life attitude, the space was a little cold and, well,  _ unlively.  _ He can't fault Pepper for it, really. The space was decorated professionally, and dotted about the place there were a few paintings and centerpieces. The decor was minimalistic, which meant that either it was meant to look the way it was - like the penthouse  _ wasn't lived in  _ \- or it was meant to be decorated further by the person inhabiting the space. The last time the penthouse had resembled that of someone living in it was the period of time when he and Tony were dating; they'd bring little trinkets back from missions or conferences overseas for SI, and there'd always be signs of life. Domesticity. Now the place looked cold.

Steve refuses to dwell any longer on those thoughts and shoves them in the deepest part of his mind. The past was the past and would remain so. Like he said, he knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. 

And then Tony's pushing the door open and Steve really doesn't know what to say; unlike the rest of the penthouse, Pepper really went all out. 

The walls were white, and Steve supposed that it was made to be white in the case of whether or not they wanted to change the color later on. Or the fact that Pepper might've thought that it was gender-neutral. He liked the idea of it. The crib was a solid wood, dark oak and the headboard had intricate designs carved into it. Near the crib, there was a rocking chair. On the far end near the window, there was a changing table with a built-in baby bath. The cupboards were white as well, and from what Steve could see, whoever had done the room didn't have enough time to pack away a few things; judging by the unopened cardboard boxes that were on top of the cupboards, they'd been about to pack the things away but simply hadn't had enough time.

He takes a step closer, his curiosity piquing when he sees the labels  _ Clothing  _ and  _ Toys. _

Steve's about to open one of the boxes closest to him when Tony calls his name.

He looks up and sees Tony holding a pastel pink gift bag out to him.

When he sees that he has Steve's attention, Tony comes closer and hands the gift bag to him. Steve eyes it, feeling wary. But then Tony's talking again. At him. Not to him. Which is a very Tony-like thing to do. Not in a bad way, just that it was a nervous tic of Tony's; when he was unsure or overwhelmed by something he tended to talk. Which made everyone focus on how annoying his rambling was instead of the fact that his hands sometimes trembled or his eyes would look for the nearest exit.

And the fact that Tony's doing that makes Steve feel like an even bigger jerk because Tony  _ was  _ trying. For all that Steve was feeling wrung out, exhausted, and overwhelmed by everything, there was no doubt that Tony was too.

So he takes the gift bag and looks to Tony for an explanation. Except, he sees the tag first, filled with Pepper's looping script and something fond settles in his chest.

"Uh, Pepper must've left it here. I saw it lying in the crib. I can tell her to take it back if you're not interested. But Pepper means well and I'm sure she didn't mean to offend you. If this offends you, of course. I know I didn't exactly discuss this with you and Pepper's already bought gifts. And I know that if Rhodey knows he's probably going to buy a couple of clothing and toys as well in an attempt to be the best uncle. Fair warning. So if you want me to tell them to stop I can," Tony says in a rush.

Steve shakes his head and accepts the gift bag. "No, no. Don't do that. I mean, I don't want them to get out of hand, but everyone already knows, right? And I know that Natasha has probably already bought things. And Sam and Bucky are going to fight Rhodey for the title of best uncle. Maybe even Clint. So there's that. But you don't need to tell Pepper. I know she means well. And… I appreciate it. Really, I do," he tells Tony and exhales in relief.

"Good. Good. Because to be honest, I don't think I could've even told Pepper to hold off on the gifts. She, uh, she sounded really excited earlier."

Tony is reminded of the phone call he'd gotten as Steve was getting dressed to leave the med floor earlier, and recalls how Pepper had gushed about all the cute outfits she had to stop herself from buying their daughter.

Steve nods, still holding onto the gift bag. The silence between them stretches, beginning to get uncomfortable.

Steve clears his throat and looks away, eyes flitting over the furniture that decorates his -  _ their  _ daughter's nursery. For something that was done last minute, it was really thought out. He makes a mental note to thank Pepper the next time he sees her. When he turns to look at Tony he finds the man already staring at him, a look that he can't place shining in Tony's eyes.

But then Tony's snapping out of whatever place he's fallen into and is talking again.

"Right, sorry, you're tired. Why don't you head to bed so long? I'll be around if you need anything, and you know FRIDAY is always watching, so she'll alert me if you need anything."

Steve nods and then he thanks Tony, noting that as soon as the brunet mentioned his tiredness, his exhaustion seemed to suddenly weigh down on him even further.

The two leave the nursery together and then they're heading in separate directions; Steve to the guest room, which was now to be his bedroom during his temporary stay in Tony's penthouse, and Tony to wherever Tony ended up settling.

Steve knows that Tony would no doubt be heading to his lab. And honestly, Steve didn't fault the man. It was a strange two days, and from the way things were going, it would probably get even stranger. Steve also knows that Tony probably needed a break from being in the same space as him. He  _ had  _ been unbearably moody and hormonal, not to mention clingy. And even the thought of what he put Tony through and the way he had acted in front of Tony was enough to make him cringe and feel hot with embarrassment. 

The motions of getting dressed into sleepwear is a mindless act that Steve barely remembers doing, his mind far away and thinking of the baby girl that he left behind on the med floor.

When he finally falls asleep, he's thankful for the peace it brings his restless mind; his sleep is dreamless and he's able to fall into a deep slumber, exhaustion pulling him into its embrace.

  
  


***

  
  


Finding that he wasn't alone and the only one awake at this particular hour surprised Steve, and seeing Tony sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter was, well, it was strange. Tony was  _ never  _ awake this early unless it was for something important like one of those business meetings that he couldn't wrangle his way out of unless he wanted Pepper to be mad at him. 

Tony was engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his tablet, and Steve didn't want to disturb him or make him feel like he was violating his space, so he turned around and was about to head back to his room but stopped when he heard Tony call out to him.

"Steve! Hey!" Tony greeted, sitting up straight. He put down his tablet and Steve watched as Tony wiped his hands on his pants nervously - yet another sign that this was as uncomfortable for Tony as it was for him - then stood up.

"Good morning, Tony."

He felt a surge of fondness settle in his chest the longer he watched Tony.

Tony gave him a blinding smile and waved him over, then pointed at the countertop, which, now that Steve was looking at it and not at Tony, was full of a breakfast spread. 

"Good morning. Sleep well?" Tony asked, glancing at him before pulling out a chair and motioning for Steve to sit before sitting down himself.

"Yeah. I slept well. Guess I was even more exhausted than I thought," he says, sitting down in the chair that Tony pulled out for him.

Tony chuckled. "I can't believe you're actually awake at this hour. You of all people should be sleeping longer."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Really? I was surprised to see you up this early! You're never awake this early. I remember -"

Steve trails off. He was about to say  _ 'I remember that I always had to shake you awake so that you'd wake up. And even then, as soon as I'd leave the room you'd turn over again and go back to sleep.'  _

"Yeah, you hardly wake up at this time of the morning." He settles for that and refuses to look up in case Tony had caught on to what he was about to say.

Thankfully Tony hasn't caught on and has put it upon himself to fulfill whatever his provider DNA is telling him to do. Which means that Tony has filled an entire breakfast plate for Steve and put it down in front of him before he could even think to object.

"Here. You haven't eaten properly since yesterday." Tony doesn't say anything else, giving Steve a pointed look as he grabs the carafe of coffee before sitting down once more.

Steve doesn't even have the energy to argue that he isn't hungry. He hasn't been all that hungry since coming back from his mission. It wasn't healthy, he knows, but he can't exactly force food down his throat, could he? Not if he didn't want to throw up and give in to the slight nausea that's been plaguing him.

He doesn't immediately eat the food he's been given, though, and he watches as Tony pours himself a mug of coffee that nearly reaches its brim. Tony is so focused on his task that he doesn't realize Steve is watching until he clears his throat.

Tony glances up at him with a questioning look on his face. "What?" Tony asks.

Steve makes a point in starting pointedly at the mountain of food that's spread across the counter. "You need to eat. If I'm right, and I usually am, then this is probably your fifth cup of coffee for the morning and you haven't had any breakfast. If I have to eat then you have to eat as well."

Tony gives a put upon sigh but reaches for a blueberry muffin nonetheless. "Fine, happy now? I'm eating."

Steve doesn't bother smothering the grin on his face and sends Tony a sweet smile. Then he's reaching for a plate and filling it with eggs and a few breakfast sausages before handing it to Tony.

_ "Now _ I'm happy."

Tony rolls his eyes but shovels a forkful of egg into his mouth.

For a few minutes, the space between them is filled with the sounds of eating. Not much on Steve's behalf, though; he's still feeling nauseous and only manages a couple of bites of his scrambled egg and toast whenever Tony glances his way. When Tony looks away he goes back to moving the food around on his plate.

Maybe he needs more sleep. 

Tony, thankfully, doesn't say anything about his barely-eaten plate of food when he stands to clean up, only sends Steve a look of concern that Steve does his best to brush off.

Tony puts their dishes into the sink and when Steve offers to help clean up, Tony shakes his head.

Steve doesn't know what to do with himself. It makes him uncomfortable to simply sit there and do nothing to help when Tony was the one who went out of his way to give up his safe space and went through all of this effort to set up two rooms for both him and their daughter to stay in. Sure, one of them was for their daughter which they  _ both  _ needed to look after, but he didn't have to do all of the things he did for Steve. 

Tentatively, Steve begins to tell Tony about what he has planned for the day. It's nothing interesting, but it will keep his mind off his straying thoughts and discomfort at being back in the penthouse and sharing space with Tony once more. And there's also the fact that the baby clothes and a few other things were still packed in cardboard boxes and needed to be unpacked and put in their correct places. That was something that still needed to be done. 

Steve hoped that it was enough to keep him sane until the arrival of their daughter.

Tony seemed interested in what he was saying, nodding his head emphatically and adding his own input here and there. 

Steve feels himself relax. It isn't as bad as he thought it would be, sharing a space with Tony. Sure, they're still a little awkward around one another, but they were trying and that's all that counts.

And when there's a silence between them once more and Steve feels as though he doesn't have anything else to say, Tony fills the quiet with something that makes Steve feel something akin to warmth and fondness spread through his entire body.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Just hear me out, okay? And feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don't like it or you think it's stupid, but, what about the name Morgan?" Tony isn't looking at him. In fact, he's studiously ignoring him and drying the plates that they just ate out of. Steve is pretty sure that the plate is dry, but he doesn't point it out. Lord knows Tony was gracious enough not to point out all the embarrassing things that he's done over the past day. Well, _day_ and _night._ So the past two days, then.

Steve's thrown for a bit by the suggestion, but as he mulls it over in his head, he doesn't really have a name in mind, nor does he  _ hate  _ the name. It's honestly a cute name.

And, like he said, he doesn't have a better idea. There was also the little fact that Steve could see just how much Tony was trying to appear indifferent to his opinion. But Steve liked to think that he knew Tony a little better than that. Beyond Tony's look of indifference, Steve could see just how badly Tony was trying to appeal to him.

Steve immediately feels guilty. Tony  _ was trying. _

"I love it. I think it suits her," he says. Tony's facade cracks and he grins down at Steve.

"Really? You're agreeing with me? You don't want to name her after your mother or mine? You can say no, you know. If you're just saying yes to agree with me or for some other… odd reason, just know that further down the line you'll be stuck with the name Morgan forever. What if you hate it?" Tony says.

Steve shakes his head and let's loose a slight laugh.

"I don't want to name her after either of our mothers. Unless you want to? I think Morgan Stark sounds perfect."

When Tony doesn't answer straight away, Steve looks up to see what's wrong and sees the stunned look on Tony's face.

"What?" he asks.

"Stark? You're giving her my surname?" Tony asks, sounding dumbfounded.

"Well, yes. You're her father, too, Tony. Unless you don't want me to give her your surname, then I'll just leave it as Rogers," Steve hastily adds the last bit, not wanting to push the invisible boundaries that were clearly set between him and Tony. 

Tony shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I just - thought that you would be giving her your surname. You're kinda -"

"I'm kinda what?" Steve asks.

"Nevermind. Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You're her other father. Why wouldn't I be sure?" Steve finds himself questioning. Morgan was their daughter. So why wouldn't she have Tony's surname?

"Morgan Stark," Tony repeats. To Steve, the name sounds perfect as it rolls off of Tony's tongue. 

"You know, this kid is going to have a complex if she ends up with the name 'Stark'. I don't want her to end up hating me because she has my surname. And God knows there's enough on the internet for her to hate me for. Hell, I'm the person everyone loves to hate! Are you sure you want that for her?" Tony sounds slightly bitter as he speaks, and though he appears nonchalant, Steve can see the pain in his eyes.

"She won't have a complex, Tony. You're a good man. And I thought you told me that no one really cares about what's on the internet. If she'll hate you, who's to say that she won't hate me either? There are things on the internet about me too, you know. I don't care what other people think. If it bothers you that much, we can hyphenate," Steve says.

"So Morgan Rogers-Stark, then?" Tony asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Morgan  _ Stark-Rogers _ ," Steve corrects and bites on his lip to keep himself from laughing when Tony rolls his eyes.

Tony heaves a put-upon sigh. "Fine, but if our daughter hates me I blame you."

"Of course," Steve says seriously.

This time they both laugh.

Steve stands and grabs the plate from Tony's hands and sets it in the drying rack. Together they clean up the rest of the breakfast spread.

When all the dishes have been cleaned and packed away and the leftover foods have been put into the fridge, Tony clears his throat.

Steve stops his task of putting away the dishes and looks up at Tony. 

"Remember when I told you that I called Pepper?" Tony asks.

When Steve nods in affirmation, Tony carries on speaking.

"Well, she wanted to know if we told the team yet. When I said no, she took it upon herself to do so."

Steve tenses. "And?" 

It's not that he didn't want the team to know. Rationally, he knew that they had to know. A baby changed things. And something like this might affect the team. It didn't mean that he was comfortable with the team knowing his business. Especially since he was the idiot who didn't catch on to his pregnancy in the first place and was now trapping Tony into something that he probably didn't want to be a part of.

Tony looks guilty for a split second. 

"Well, your besties wanted to know when they could visit. Pepper tried fending the rest of the team off, told them you needed your rest and that we still needed to sort a couple of things out, you know, and it worked. For a bit. I have at least five missed calls and twenty messages from both Sam and Barnes combined. I ignored all of them, but FRIDAY says that Barnes is getting antsy," Tony says.

Steve bites back a curse. Of course, Sam and Bucky wouldn't just leave things alone. He knows that they care, appreciates it, but sometimes he wishes that they'd just take his word for it when he said that he was okay or that he needed some time to himself. Sam was always trying to psychoanalyze him ever since his breakup with Tony, and Bucky got even more protective over him. Steve's sure that if he were to check his phone there would probably be double the number of notifications. 

"I'm not in the mood for visitors just yet. Maybe soon, but not right now," Steve hears himself say. 

Tony nods along as if he knew what Steve would say.

Seeing Tony agreeing with him just makes Steve feel even more annoyed. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying not to lash out at Tony. It wouldn't do to shoot the messenger, after all.

"I thought so. I told them that they could visit when you were less tired," Tony says. 

Steve doesn't know what else to say. He's irritated that his friends wanted to encroach on his space even more than they already had, but he understands why they want to visit; they care about him. And then there's the voice in the back of his mind that's saying that Tony isn't telling him everything. 

The longer he looks at Tony, the more that he finds that Tony's clearly not saying everything he needs to say. Tony's fidgeting and doing that thing with his fingers where he snaps them and presses them to his palm to keep them still again. Steve knows that Tony knows it's a dead giveaway to what he's really feeling. It was one of the things that had been brought up during their relationship. 

Steve just wishes that he had Morgan with him, that she wasn't still down on the med floor. Maybe then everyone will stop wanting a piece of him. Maybe then they'd leave him alone. At least she'll be coming home tomorrow. Just one more day. He can handle that, right?

Steve waits. He can see how close Tony is to blurting out what it is that he wants to say. 

"So I may have to leave later tomorrow afternoon with Pepper for some sort of business for S.I. I know that tomorrow is when Morgan finally gets to come home - I promise I'll be there! I made a promise to you and I intend to stick to it. But I just thought to tell you," Tony says.

Steve nods along to what Tony says. He knows that Tony still hasn't told him everything yet.

"Thank you for telling me."

Tony looks relieved and shoots him a grin. It's a show of how fed up he is with everyone and everything that has happened and is currently happening in his life that he doesn't feel a single ounce of guilt when he bashes Tony's relief with a single, "And?"

Because Steve knows that Tony wasn't telling him the entire truth. Never, not once before and during their relationship was Tony ever nervous about telling him that he had a business meeting with Pepper. Or simply when he had to leave and do something for Stark Industries. Of course, there was the occasional exception when they'd made plans weeks in advance and Tony had no choice but to go into S.I, much to Stev's disappointment. But Tony always made it up to him after, and Steve knew that whatever date they had planned or reservations they had booked would never measure up to Tony's idea of making it up to him. 

Tony instantly frowned.

"Okay, fine. So I have to leave for S.I. with Pepper but she asked me if it would be okay if she could come up to the penthouse after. Her logic was that my office is up here and it would be more comfortable and beneficial for us to finish off the rest of the paperwork here, but I think it's a ploy just to see Morgan. Before you get annoyed -" Tony says quickly, "I did say that if you said no then we could just migrate to the lower levels of the tower where the S.I. employees are. If you don't want Pepper over I can tell her. She can take it, trust me."

Steve sighs. Why did he think that he was off the hook? Of course he couldn't even get a normal morning without people jumping him. Rationally, Steve knew Tony wasn't waiting to dump this on him, the remains of their impromptu breakfast and the first proper conversation they had was proof of that, but it doesn't feel like it. 

Steve knows that he should get it over with, that he should see the team already, but he knows that he'll feel even more exhausted when the visit from the team is over. And there's the fact that Sam, Natasha and Bucky were a bit too close with him to accept any of his poor excuses when he said he was fine. They were the ones that had seen him after his break-up with Tony. Steve doesn't want their pity or their sympathy. He wasn't some sort of charity case or lost cause. He wasn't a pet project that could be picked at whenever there wasn't a mission and they needed something to keep them occupied. 

Baby steps first. 

Steve knows that Pepper wouldn't push. And if he felt that he couldn't handle things then she'd understand.

So he agrees. 

Tony's smile is so bright when he hears him agreeing that Steve has to turn away in case he does something embarrassingly stupid. Something like hugging Tony. 

Really, he doesn't understand why his heart won't give him a break already. Tony wasn't his anymore, would never be again and Steve couldn't risk doing something stupid because he now had someone else to care for instead of himself. Despite what Bucky says about his stupid ideas, he can't disagree that Steve never did things to risk others. Case in point; Morgan.

His mother was a single parent and Steve knew how difficult she had things. Which is why he knew that he had to stay on his side on the boundary line and not overstep if he wanted his daughter to have two functioning parents.

And like he said, baby steps. 

Maybe it would be good for him to see someone else besides his friends and Tony. Not that Pepper wasn't someone that he considered his friend, but because she wasn't completely overbearing like Sam, Bucky and Natasha had become in recent months. Pepper would be good for him.

Now all Steve had to do was remind himself of that until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally managed to update! I apologize for the long wait but things were super hectic on my side.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to all the people who stuck with this while I wrote exams and generally abandoned this fic because of RL. I love you all, and I'm grateful to each and every one of you for your patience and kindness for waiting until I could update again.
> 
> Finally, I feel like I can breathe again! Ugh, I feel like the last I've updated was five years ago. So not cool. In regards to this fic, there isn't much plot, as it goes, but it is essential to the fic. Of course, because it's me, there's slight angst and negative thoughts, but it will get better, promise!
> 
> Until the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

When Steve glances at the alarm clock he's not surprised to find that it's still early. He's been trying to go back to sleep for more than an hour and has completely given up on sleep, feeling too antsy and like he was too small for his skin.

It's not a new feeling, rather an old one that he'd experienced once or twice after receiving the serum, but it was still one that didn't make him feel too great.

Steve sighs wearily and rubs a hand down his face, screwing his eyes shut.

Today is the day that Morgan gets discharged and would be coming home. 

When Steve opens his eyes again, they immediately fall onto the pink gift bag from Pepper. He still hadn't opened it yet. 

Feeling guilty yet again - Steve can't remember feeling anything else during these past few days beyond exhaustion, guilt, and embarrassment and he's starting to get fed up with himself - he tosses his duvet aside and slips out of bed.

As soon as his bare foot touches the floor he can't help but let out a shiver; it was freezing in the guest room.

When Steve glances out the window, he understands why. The weather outside looked to be one of the days where it was nothing but cold and wet.

He crosses the room to the ottoman where the pink gift bag from Pepper lay discarded. Steve picks it up and sits down on the edge of the bed, finding that he was curious to know what was inside. The bag wasn't heavy, nor too light, which meant that the contents in the bag were on the small side.

Steve wastes no time in opening the bag, making sure not to rip it. He brushes aside the tissue paper and pulls out the first thing he sees.

In his hands is a book with a hard cover, with the words 'Baby's firsts' written on it and underneath a blank space where he assumes a picture of Morgan is meant to be placed.

Steve flips through the book and can't help but smile as he reads over the titles; _'Baby's first smile'_ , _'Baby's first laugh'_ , _'Baby's first tooth'_ , and _'Baby's first word'_. It's cute, and he feels fondness settle in his chest at the thought of his little baby. She was still so small, and yet, he can't help but feel so much love for her. It was overwhelming and at the same time, he couldn't deny that it felt right, having her. She was his and for so long he denied the fact that he wanted something like her in his life, he denied the fact that he yearned for something Morgan-sized and denied his sadness and anger at the fact that he couldn't have children.

But then he was given a miracle, and he realized that he would do anything to keep her happy and would be more than willing to watch the world burn if something happened to her.

He puts the book to one side and pulls out the next item.

Steve grins at the cute dress in his hand; it's pink and so, so tiny. He's sure that Morgan will look adorable in it. He allows himself to wonder how she'll look in it when he gets her from the med floor. 

The last thing that he pulls out of the gift bag is a gold box. He's slightly confused but he spies the bright blue Post-It stuck on what he supposes is the lid. He takes a moment to read it and immediately feels a swell of gratitude for Pepper. She really was a godsend in all of this. 

_'Congratulations, Steve! I hope I didn't go too overboard, but I couldn't help it when I saw that adorable little dress. This is a little something for you. I know that from now on everyone is so focused on getting things for the baby that they completely forget about the parent who did all the hard work bringing that little baby into the world. So here's something for whenever you need some time for yourself or you feel overwhelmed. Chocolate always makes me feel better._

_Love, Pepper'_

Inside the golden box is individually wrapped truffles. It's extremely tasteful, and, because it's Pepper, Steve has no doubt that they're expensive and made of good quality ingredients.

It's incredibly thoughtful of her. Steve knows how difficult it must be for her because of his break-up with Tony. Of course, she wasn't rude or on an obvious side, Pepper was never like that, but he can't help but feel that a baby has just made things even more difficult. They hadn't planned this and he knew that Pepper liked things to be planned out, especially since she had to work so hard at the company. Of course, working for Tony is hard enough as it is, but when you're running his company Steve can only imagine just how much harder it is. Add the fact that Tony was now a new parent, well, things would be much, much more difficult.

Which is why he's so hesitant to meet up with the rest of the team. He doesn't want to face questions on whether or not he and Tony are going to parent her together, or even worse, questions on whether or not he was okay with all of this.

The truth is that of course, he wasn't okay with the situation. It's less than ideal for two exes to suddenly come together with whatever baggage they still carried due to their failed relationship and parent a child that they had created by accident right before they broke up. 

But it doesn't mean that Steve regrets it. He's not happy about living in the penthouse again. It's a 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' kind of situation and he's willing to try and soldier through it for Morgan. Morgan was his little miracle baby and he would do anything for her, even if he's uncomfortable with being in Tony's space once more.

And as he said, it was a less than ideal situation. But Steve also knew that one could never truly be prepared for having a child. You could prepare for a long time and still be wholly unprepared when they came along, or you could be someone who never prepared, and when they came along everything kind of just slipped into place. You could never know with these sorts of things.

Steve packs the book back into the gift bag and puts it on the bedside table along with the box of chocolates. The dress he folds neatly. 

He debates going back to sleep but decides that he's too keyed up to simply lie there and wait for sleep to come. So when he finds himself outside Morgan's nursery it's not a surprise.

Steve knows that there are still boxes that need to be unpacked with clothes that needed to be folded and put into the correct drawers. It isn't a lot to do, but it would suffice in keeping his mind busy so that he couldn't torture himself into thinking up various scenarios of when the time came to pick Morgan up and bring her back home.

Steve's so intent on his actions of folding the clothing and packing the few toys away that he doesn't pick up the sound of approaching footsteps, nor does he hear Tony's knock on the door.

It's only when Tony clears his throat - for the second time - does Steve startle and look up to find the brunet watching him curiously.

"Uh, hi. Question. Were you here all night? Because if you were, that would be a serious problem," Tony says in lieu of greeting.

Steve blinks. Hearing Tony talk - and from his rough voice, it was obvious that the genius had just woken up. And really, now was not the time to notice such things - felt strange; he had been working in the silence for quite some time, and adjusting to noise once more was taking him a while.

"Good morning, Tony. I wasn't here all night, promise. I slept for a bit but couldn't sleep any longer and lying in bed wasn't cutting it for me. I realized that there were still a few more things to pack away before Morgan comes home and here I am."

This time it's Tony's turn to blink.

When Tony speaks, it's as if he's finally caught on to what Steve's been doing because he nods.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about the boxes. But you didn't have to unpack them yourself, I could've had someone else do it." Tony scratches his head, stepping out of the entryway and deeper into the nursery.

Steve feels a flash of something akin to irritation flare up at Tony's words, but he tamps down on the urge to give a scathing remark and chooses instead to watch as Tony surveys the work he's done in the nursery this morning with a critical eye.

And then Tony turns to look at him, a smile quirking up at the corners of his mouth, and Steve finds himself having to swallow several times because honestly, he could handle any one of Tony's moods; he could stand Tony when he was angry and when he was irritated, or when he was too tired to function like a regular human being, even when he was wearing his public persona and was purposefully being difficult. 

What Steve can't handle is Tony being the way he was right now. Not this morning. And it isn't just the fact that Tony is smiling at him, because Tony had smiled at him numerous times over the course of two days, but because today was different to any other day, and his nerves were already frayed at the edges. Which means that Steve isn't completely sure whether Tony was toying with him or being sincere at the moment, and he was too tired to look deeper into it.

"I could do it by myself. Getting someone in to unpack a few boxes is unnecessary. And besides, I'm nearly finished. All I need to do is pack this away and then I'm done," Steve says.

Tony cocks his head to one side, watching him for a couple of beats, and then he straightens up and walks over to Steve.

He takes the small pile of clothing from Steve's hands and packs it away in the open drawer, making sure that everything was packed away neatly before closing it.

Over his shoulder, Tony says, "You could've called me to help you."

Steve doesn't say anything straight away. His lack of a quick response is what prompts Tony to turn and face him.

"You were asleep. And I wanted a bit of silence," Steve settles on saying. There's a lot missing from the sentence, such as _'I wanted a bit of silence away from you'._

Tony seems to pick up on it because the previous look of openness that he so easily displayed since stepping into the nursery immediately falls away. 

Steve doesn't allow the blank look that has now taken over Tony's face to make him feel guilty. He thinks he's done enough of feeling guilty to last a lifetime and isn't this the point?

He and Tony weren't meant to be so friendly with one another, especially not since they were exes. Tony told him that they were essentially roommates. Of course, it wouldn't do to dodge one another and ignore the other's existence, but since they weren't together anymore, they didn't have to depend so heavily on one another.

And Steve feels that he's depended on Tony too much in the last two days. He needed a break. He needed to learn to do things by himself. 

He's managed it before, the seven months after their break-up was proof of that. And now that he's suddenly found himself a new parent, his independence was shot to hell. He couldn't allow it to go on any further. Sooner or later the other shoe will drop and Tony will realize that Steve was just another burden that he needed to carry.

Steve refused to let that happen.

His internal monologue is interrupted when Tony speaks. Even to Steve's ears it sounds dull.

"Of course. Guess I should've thought of that. I do have a meeting after all. And Pep will kill me if I fall asleep during the negotiations," Tony says.

Steve nods. What else could he say?

Tony seems to be on board with discontinuing the disaster they were heading towards in conversation and steers it in the opposite direction.

"Breakfast? I'm starving and I know that you must at least be hungry considering how long you've been up. Besides, Doctor Mikhailov said that you needed to eat enough calories so that you can keep up your strength," Tony says.

Steve instantly agrees. It's safer to go with Tony and leave the nursery behind them, that and all the words left unspoken. He just doesn't have the energy to deal with whatever Tony seems to have going on inside his head. Not this morning.

Now all he had to do was get through was breakfast. 

And then he could take Morgan home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter! This was originally going to be part of a much longer chapter but I hated the idea that you guys haven't gotten an update from me in a while (for those of you who are still waiting around for me to update, I send you my most sincerest thanks for sticking around this long) and decided that I would update. I apologize for the long wait 🙈


End file.
